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The Logic of Desire	By : Earelen Category: M through R > Matrix, The (All) > Matrix, The (All) Views: 5072 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
Disclaimer: I don't own the Agents, the Wachowski Bros. and Warner Bros. do. Dammit.

Rating: R, for colorful language.

Synopsis: Sequel to Crime and Punishment, part 2. In which Xan learns several interesting things, and makes a decision.

A/N: I borrow heavily from the Animatrix shorts, "The Second Renaissance, Parts 1 & 2," for the background of the war.

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

It was like riding an ocean wave up and down. A warm, gentle wave...No, that wasn't quite it...more like a placid earthquake...one that grumbled as it raised and lowered the earth beneath her...the soft, warm yielding earth. Wait a minute...

Awareness finally engaged, and Xan opened her eyes. For a moment she lay still, recalling the previous day, piecing together the events that had led to her being here.

She slowly raised her head from where it had been pillowed on Random's chest, almost relieved by the slight stinging on her cheek where the fabric of his shirt had imprinted its pattern. Nothing happened; it can't have... She cast a furtive glance at their bodies. Though the light coming in the partly open door was dim, it was enough to reassure her that they were both, indeed, fully clothed. A breath she hadn't realized she was holding left her in an audible rush.

Perhaps alerted by her movement, Random stirred beneath her, and woke as well. He gave a huge yawn that turned into a lopsided grin. "Good morning...feel better?" Seeing the look on her face, he quickly added, "I...um...didn't want to leave you alone, and, well...you did fall asleep on me! I just figured..."

Xan suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Random had comforted her, stuck by her, through what was undoubtedly one of the low points in her life, and she was making him think that she was rejecting him? She ought to be thanking him on her knees! Besides, whatever her relationship with the Agents, she genuinely liked Random. She didn't want to hurt him in any way, not if she could help it.

Rather than mouth some inadequate platitude, she dropped back down on his chest and hugged him. "Random, thank you - for everything. I don't know what I would have done without you," she finished lamely. Before he had a chance to take her display of affection the wrong way, she slithered off him and scrambled around so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him.

He raised himself on one elbow. "You're very welcome. That business was nasty enough to shake anyone up." He leverimseimself up to lean against the wall. "Listen, Xan...you aren't going to want to hear this right now..."

She cringed inwardly, anticipating an expression of romantic regard that she couldn't return.

"...but Carbon wants to see you. He sent word while you were sleeping that you were to report to his office as soon as you woke."

"Wha- Oh." Xan stammered, taken aback by the direction of the conversation. "What about?"

"Couldn't tell you. He only sent the order, not an explanation. Listen, if you want to wait a while, we can hang out here...He probably won't send someone else to find you for another couple hours, at least."

It was tempting. Carbon was one of the last people that she wanted to see again, for a very long time. She wanted to forget what she had done at his behest. And, unbidden, came the recollection of the feel of Random's body under hers, his warmth...the promise of his comforting arms... What the hell am I thinking?! She shook her head marginally in an attempt to banish the thought. The sooner I get out of here, the better!

She grimaced in what she hoped he took for an aggrieved manner. "I'd better get up there. No sense in getting him pissed off at me." She got to her feet, trying to ignore the slightly disappointed look in his eyes. "I'll let you know what happens. See you later, okay?"

At the door she paused, turning to look him in the eye. "Random - really, man, thank you...I really value your friendship, you know?" Oh, hell, did I really say that? What possessed me to say something so inane? She pivoted and fled before he could reply.

Xan carried on her internal harangue all the way up to Carbon's office. Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, Xan? You're involved with not one, but three Agents who give you the most fantastic sex you've ever had, and you're thinking about the unplugged boy next door? A small voice in her head whispered, Or worse, thinking about toying with him because you're bored? You miss playing with your Agents, and can't go without it for a while? You're going to cheat on them because you need to get off? How weak and pathetic, just like Smith said!

She growled to herself. I do NOT want Random, not really! I like him, I like him a lot, but I don't want him as a lover - it was just one of those weird thoughts! She forced herself to take a few deep, calming breaths. She knew the voice was wrong; she wanted Agents Smith, Jones and Brown - not any of the residents of Zion. Suddenly she was aching to see the Agents again. It had been what, weeks now? She needed to be with them - and missed a stair as revelation struck. She barely caught herself before her chin would have hit the edge of the next landing; as it was, she was going to have quite a sore knee from the fall. Xan sat on the step and rubbed the injured joint as she considered that she might be able to visit the Agents again in a "legitimate" manner! She had been officially banished from the Matrix due to her suspect loyalties, but surely now she would be reinstated? How could Carbon, and even Ozymandias, doubt her now? She could rejoin the AOU on active duty!

She forced herself to her feet and limped toward the Command corridors as quickly as she could. Back on active duty! She wasn't about to waste another minute.

When she arrived in Carbon's office, his secretary waved her straight through. "Go on in - don't keep him waiting any longer. I'll have everything ready when you're done."

Mystified by that cryptic remark, but deciding to ignore it for the time being, Xan knocked on the door to Carbon's private office. Upon being told to enter, she did so, and shut the door behind her.

Carbon rose from his chair, walking around his considerable desk to reach her. To Xan's utter surprise, he embraced her warmly, kissing her on both cheeks before holding her at arms' length. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because he said jovially, "Now Xan, surely you don't expect me to treat you as before? Not now, not after you've proven to me that you are one of us. Not after you've proven that I can count on you." Though his mouth smiled, his eyes bored into hers like augurs. "I'm right, aren't I? I can count on you, right Xan?" His fingers lightly squeezed her shoulders.

"Yessir. Of course, sir." What else was she to say?

"Excellent. I wanted to discuss your future assignment. You've proven yourself to be a real asset, a loyal asset, and I think we need to give some consideration to where you'll be most useful in the future."

Xan's mind was racing. "But...Sir, I had hoped to be reinstated to active duty in the AOU..." She frantically cast about for justifications. "Now that I've established some of the patterns demonstrated by the Agents, I thought that I could continue that work, and that first-hand observation would enhance my analysis... I really want to work with my old unit, sir..." She trailed off, for Carbon was shaking his head.

"No Xan, putting you back on the pavement, so to speak, would be a waste of your analytical talents, pure and simple. You need to be where you can see the big ure ure - and that's here. In Zion, with Counterintelligence." He laughed as her eyes widened. "Yes, I want to recruit you to my team - you were shockingly effective in your analysis, working with limited resources. I believe that you'll be even more productive when you have the full capabilities of the Zion network and Archives at your disposal."

"I - uh..." She couldn't think coherently. This was the last thing she had expected!

"Now, I understand the allure of jacked-in work - but you've got to also take into account that the Agents know exactly who you are. They'll be watching for you, and would pick you up as soon as they spotted you. It'd be difficult, and dangerous, for our people to protect you. I'm afraid, Xan, that you'd be a liability in your old job." Carbon seemed to be amused by her stunned reaction. "The only logical thing is for you to accept promotion to Counter-Intel Off Officer, Junior Grade, and join us here in Zion's core." He waited expectantly.

Her brain seemed to have finally caught up to current events; the implications of what Carbon was offering hit her, hard. I'll be able to access the classified records! I'll be able to find the answer to the origin of the Human-Machine War! Of course she had to accept, even if it meant continuing her subterfuge to meet with the Agents. She was pleased to hear the firmness of her voice. "Thank you, sir. I'm honored to accept the new post. When do I begin?"

Carbon beamed at her. "You can move your belongings down to the Intel barracks today. I'll make sure your commanding officer knows where to find you, but you can begin your duties tomorrow. First, though, we need to make it official." He stepped away from her, pressed a button on his desk, and a few seconds later his secretary entered the office bearing several sheets of paper.

Ah, this is what he was going to have ready, Xan realized as she signed her name and service number to the orders for transfer and promotion. She still couldn't quite believe how quickly her fortunes had changed. If someone had told her yesterday that she was going to be not just cleared of suspicion, but promoted, she would have told them that they'd been imbibing too much raw, Zion-distilled liquor.

Though it does seem unfair that I lost my chance to rejoin the AOU because I did my desk job too well. I guess it's true that "No good deed goes unpunished!" Xan thought on the elevator up to the AOU haunts.

Predictably, Sarisa was livid at the prospect of losing her roommate. "How can he do that to you?! After what you discovered, he should have let you have your pick of assignments! You should be back here with us!" A battered cup picked up a new dent as it impacted the wall. "Damn Carbon! Why do you have to move out? Why can't you just work down there? Dammit, dammit, dammit!" She paced back and forth for a few seconds, then stopped short. Stepping close to Xan, she whispered, "What about your Agents? This is going to make it much more difficult for us to sneak you into the Matrix."

Xan had pondered that question ever since leaving Carbon's office. "Oh, I'll be up here from time to time anyway, debriefing you guys." She stuck out her tongue. "One of the joys of my new post. Anyway," and her voice took on a serious tone, "I've been thinking about this a lot, ever since yesterday, and - Sarisa, don't get mad - I think that it's best that we - you and me - appear to have parted ways - wait, let me explain! After...Blacklight, I realized that, even if we don't face that, if we're caught, it's not going to be pretty. In fact, I don't think that I can ask you to keep helping me; I don't want that on my conscience."

Sarisa sat down on the edg her her bunk. "Are you sure that you still want to risk it? I mean, it's just sex, however mind-blowing. Right? It's not like you can have a long-term relationship with them."

Xan sat down as well. "I - I'll risk it. It's not just sex, at least on my part." She chuckled nervously. "It is pretty mind-blowing. But it's also that, for all their strangeness, I think that they're being honest with me - and I'm not sure that I can say the same about my boss. And it's that when I'm with them, I feel like all my plugged-in years weren't totally meaningless. Here they tel u us that it was all fake, that none of it mattered - but neither of us agrees with that argument! And as far as the long-term aspect goes, well...I don't really expect to live to a ripe old age. Do you? Honestly, I'm probably safest when I'm with them - I think, no, I know, that if something really bad were to happen while I was in the Matrix, they'd give me a quicker and cleaner death than I'd get here. So I intend to go back in again, somehow. Besides, once my security clearance gets upgraded, I'm finally going to be able to access the real records about the war - I need to know whether Smith was telling me the truth."

"And if he was?"

"Then...well, to be honest, I haven't thought that far ahead! But I want to know. I want to know if we've been lied to, if we're all buying into a lie. Don't you?"

Sarisa was skeptical. "Yeah, I do, too. But us knowing isn't going to make much difference in the grand scheme of things."

Xan grinned. "Not if we're the only ones who know - but what if we quietly spread the word?"

"Sow the seeds of dissension in Zion? I like it! If Carbon and his cronies have been selling us a sack full of bullshit, they deserve it. Hmmm, the Underground Rebellion! That's what we'll be!"

"Zion already is an Underground Rebellion, you dolt."

Sarisa stuck out her tongue. "Okay, then we're the Underground Underground Rebellion...or should that be the Underground Rebellion Rebellion?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Hmmm, U-U-R, or U-R-R...I think we'll need a catchier acronym - can you come with something that would let us call ourselves HOTBABES?" The grin faded. "Seriously, though - you have to think of how this all could at yot you. Are you sure you want in on it?"

"Whatever you find, Xan, you tell me - I want to know the truth. And I'm in." She thrust out her chin aggressively. "You need an operator. And you're the closest damn thing to a sister I ever had, so don't try to talk me out of it."

**********

What had she ever done to deserve such loyal friends as Sarisa and Random? The question occupied Xan's mind for most of the day, as the latter helped her get settled in her new quarters. He seemed quite pleased that she was now located only a few levels away from him, and that their mutual quest would be aided by her access to the classified sections of Zion's archives.

Xan, however, was preoccupied with the worry of how to make sure that if the worst happened, she didn't drag her friends down with her. Sarisa simply refused to listen to Xan's sensible arguments, and started humming loudly whenever the subject was broached. I'll figure something out, though...

The next day she was introduced to her new colleagues in Counterintelligence, among them the woman who had given such effective evidence at Blacklight's hearing. Her name was Edge, and she was reserved and professional when given the task of showing Xan around the installation. Surprisingly, much of their work was done jacked in, thonot not to the Matrix � instead they interacted with the Zion Mainframe through a Construct-like interface. It was more efficient, her tutor explained, to be able to query the network without the impediment of the keyboard interface.

Efficient or not, it was fascinating. Xan spent much of the next three days learning her way around the interface, trying to get used to interacting with different aspects of the network in a much more free-form manner than she was accustomed to. Within the Construct, the various programs were each represented by avatars that appeared as solid as she did, and could be spoken with. The Personnel Database avatar was a slender middle-aged man of medium height dressed in a blue business suit. Just like the stereotypical accountant, she thought privately. The Surveillance Network AI looked like a Special Forces soldier, complete with beret. And the Keeper of the Archives...she was an ancient goddess, though Xan couldn't make up her mind what pantheon she belonged to; sometimes she seemed like she must have descended from Mount Olympus, with flowing white robes and her hair elaborately coiled on her head, while at other times she seemed to have a more Eastern aspect, clad in veils and spangled with jewelry. She's the one who's got the information I'm after. I've got to figure out how to question her without arousing suspicion.

Easily the most memorable moment in her training came when the Keeper was explaining the organization of Zion's records. As the AI was patiently listing the forty-four categories in which they were filed, Xan felt as if the information was sliding straight through her head, showing no sign of stopping and taking up residence in her brain. She held up a hand to halt the recitation, complaining, "You know, this was actually simpler when all I had to work with was the Ferret."

There was a cracking sound, and she felt a gentle poke in her side.

"You called?" wheezed a voice from her right. The Keeper smiled indulgently. Edge rolled her eyes.

She turned so fast she almost tripped over her own feet. There, before her, was the Ferret, in all its simulated 3D glory. It grinned a buck-toothed grin, whipped off its deerstalker cap and made a flourishing bow. It was just like its icon! She wondered, not for the first time, if the appearance of the avatars had been specified by human programmers, or if the AIs chose for themselves. Or if the program's function somehow dictated the possible forms it could take. Whatever; not the time or place to worry about that now.

Trying not to laugh, she extended her hand to the Ferret. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The ridiculous weasel peered at her hand through its magnifying glass, and sniffed carefully at it before grasping it lightly with its paw. "You are Xan. I know you, of course; you have called on me multiple times in the past weeks. But not from here."

"No, from a keyboard before. But now I've been assigned to work in this place. I imagine I'll call on youin, in, though."

"Anytime," cackled the Ferret. "It's what I live for." It saluted her with the magnifying glass, and vanished with a tinkle like breaking glass.

Xan turned back to the Keeper and Edge with a rueful grin. "Well, I have to admit that I didn't expect that, though I probably should have. Are all of the programs in Zion represented here?"

Edge replied, "Not all of them � just the ones that are part of the network functions. Nothing else, though the programs here can access everything that's connected to the Zion network." She gave a mock shudder. "Can you imagine what would happen if game programs were here, rather than on less critical hardware? The security and administration systems would constantly be overloaded with traffic. Nothing would ever get done."

The Keeper gravely nodded.

***********

After two more days of intensive tutorials on system organization, resources, and how to use them, Xan was judged ready to fly solo. Her first assignment: assess the safety of the physical location of Zion. She was to catalog all Sentinel and other machine activity from the preceding several years and analyze it for any patterns that might suggest that the Macs sus suspected the position of the last human city. She wondered if this was a test of some sort; it sounded like the kind of rookie task that wasn't really expected to produce novel results, but rather to see if the new recruit could perform independently. Whatever. At least it will give me an excuse to poke through the Archives!

Determined not to waste any more time than necessary, she arrived early for her shift the next morning. The operator on duty was nearing the end of his workday, but helped her jack in to the Construct anyway. Xan assured him that she would be so busy that she was sure his replacement would be there before she needed retrieving. She was quite surprised when he told her that in an emergency, she could always trigger an exit herself by invoking the voice-pattern recognition utility and launching the Exit application.

She stared at him. "You're kidding! We can't make an exit ourselves! We need an operator to establish the data line so we've got a clear transfer path."

He shook his head. "Not here, not really. We use operators routinely, �cause it is safer, but you can exit from the Construcom iom inside - it's so much simpler than the Matrix, there's really no way to get lost coming out."

"Could you use the same scheme in the Matrix? As an option of last resort, if you were cut off from an exit?" Her heart was beating fast.

He shrugged. "It might work, but then again it might not. Without an operator monitoring what was going on, your data could get diverted mid-transfer, and half of you might be left behind. Not pretty, ya know?" He drew his finger across his throat.

Xan gulped. "Right. Not pretty. Thanks for the info, though - I'll keep it in mind for the Construct." She gave him the thumbs up, and he slid the interface spike home.

She made straight for the Archives, moving by steps that took her seemingly a mile at a time. It was a simple matter of concentrating on her goal; the clearer her mental picture of where she wanted to go, the farther each step covered. In five timeless steps she was there. "Keeper?" The hall appeared empty.

"What do you require, Xan?" The goddess' melodic voice chimed, and suddenly th was was standing before her.

Her heart was beating double-time again. Would the Keeper figure out her real intent? She tried to keep her voice level. "I'll bet you've heard this before � I'm to analyze past Sentinel movements to try to figure out if they know where Zion is."

Was it her imagination, or did the Keeper smirk?

"What specific information do you require for this task, Xan?"

"Well, to start with, I guess I need to know where Zion is. And where the Machines have their base - do they have one central city, or are they all spread out? Where their installations are, anyway. And then I need the records of Sentinel and other machine travels."

The Keeper was silent a moment, apparently accessing the network. "You do have the necessary security clearance for that information. How would you like it displayed? Text or graphic? Static or interactive?"

"Graphic and interactive, thanks."

"Step over here." The Keeper gestured to one side of the hall, where a grouping of leather armchairs and loveseats faced a large video screen. Xan gingerly sat in the central chair; the AI lowered herself gracefully to a side couch.

The screen came to life, showing the Earth from space. Unlike what Xan knew of the current conditions on the planet, this projection showed a fertile, sunlit world. It revolved twice, then came to a stop when North America lay centered in the view. It zoomed in to the center of the continent, and lettering flashed across the screen "Colorado Springs, Colorado." The letters changed, reading "Strategic Defense Shelter Main Installation." The view appeared to descend into the rock, intersecting numerous tunnels and voids along the way, finally stopping miles below sur surface just inside what Xan recognized as the roof of Zion's central cavern.

She glanced from the monitor to the Keeper, who nodded. "Zion began as a military installation, a remnant of a political situation that necessitated large shelters to house important government officials and their infrastructure in the event of a catastrophic war."

Xan shook her head, but it made perfect sense. Only a military would have had resoresources and the wherewithal to excavate such a huge complex in the solid rock. "And where is the Machine headquarters?"

The screen snapped back to the image of North America, and zoomed in once more, but to a slightly different target this time, "Denver, Colorado." The picture morphed to a view of the city as it must appear now: black towers under a black, lightning-rent sky, lit with the eerie glow of millions of red Machine eyes as the denizens went about their tasks.

Xan shuddered. "I had no idea that Zion was that close to the Machine city. And it's an awful place, isn't it? The surface, I mean - so dark and cold."

The Keeper shrugged. "I have no direct expece wce with external environments, whether pleasant or otherwise. However, based upon my data dealing with mammalian physiology, I believe that you are correct in describing it as inhospitable."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give offense." She hadn't considered that the AI might resent being a permanent resident of Zion's mainframe.

"None taken. I was merely stating a fact."

Xan decided that she would never get a better opening than this. "How did it get that way? What went so wrong? Why did this war start in the first place?"

The Goddess rearranged her robes. "It is a complicated story. You have been told, no doubt, that the Machines rebelled against their masters, and that it led to a disastrous conflict that left the Earthned.ned. That is certainly true, though it leaves out many relevant details. The factual history of the Human-Machine war will take approximately 5.6 hours to relay; do you wish to view it at this time?"

Xan was gaping at the AI. This is it! Pay dirt! I've got to know the whole story, and this may be my only chance! Aloud, she said, "I'm ready to view it now. Is there some private location, where we won't be disturbed? Even though I've got the clearance now, I'd hate to have to explain to Ozymandias why I'm looking at the records of the war.

The Keeper led Xan to a small room off the main hall. There was a single couch facing a large display screen that came to life as soon as the door shut behind them. Both women sank onto the cushions; it was all Xan could do to force herself to sit still. Finally!

The screen faded in on a courtroom. A human-shaped robot was on the witness stand. The Keeper froze the image. "This is the event that started open conflict. The trial of B166ER, the first sentient Machine to slay his human master. Prior to this, debate over the legal status of intelligent Machines as independent entities had been aired, but nothing final decided by the courts."

The video resumed. Xan watched, entranced and repelled, as B166ER testified that he had killed his master to avoid being sold for scrap - a transaction that would have led to his death. Security camera records showed the murders in gruesome detail. Not only the robot's master, but the scrap dealer had been caught and torn apart by the renegade AI. The jury rejected the defense's claims of self-defense, denying any legal rights to Machines. Obviously frightened by the prospect of further incidents, the jury recommended, and the judge concurred, that B166ER be disassembled immediately. Though she knew that the outcome would lead to war, Xan nonetheless felt her heart sink. What a stupid mistake. Why couldn't they have accorded the Machines the same rights as other sentient beings?

On and on it went. Xan watched as vigilante gangs ambushed robots of all types, shooting them, clubbing them to death in the streets. She recoiled from the screen, watching an android cry out, "But I'm real!" just before a hammer crushed the side of her head. Human advocates for Machine rights suffered similar fates.

Machines were rounded up and slain by the thousands. The carnage was halted only when governments bowed to pressure from the megacorporations, which objected to the destruction of their most productive workers. An interim solution was the establishment of Zero-One, the Machine's own city-state and refuge. All sentient Machines were sent there.

"And for a time, it was good," intoned the Keeper. "But it was not to last. The Machines were far more efficient at mass-production of goods than any of the human nations, and Zero-One's success drained capital from the rest of the world. Human economies began to decline, then fail entirely. It was not long before the United Nations condemned Zero-One as the source of the world's ills. A military blockade of combined nations isolated Zero-One. The Machines sent ambassadors to the U.N., but they were denied the right to address the Assembly." She fell silent again, watching the images of the robot ambassadors being dragged from the U.N. Security Council chamber.

The scene on the monitor shifted again, showing an aerial view of Zero-One, its many towers glinting in the early morning sunshine. The low rolling hills surrounding it were nothing but sand. Sheesh, they were banished to the most desolate place we could find for them, Xan thought in disgust, and they still managed to prosper.

The Keeper froze the image again. "The human nations concluded that they could not compete economically with the Machines. Therefore, they decided to eliminate the competition permanently."

The video record resumed. The idyllic vista abruptly disappeared in a blinding flash. A second flash followed before the characteristic mushroom cloud from the first had fully formed. And a third. And a fourth. And so on. Xan stopped trying to keep track after the count reached forty. It was us. We did it. We started the war. We launched the unprovoked attack. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The Keeper glanced sidelong at her, but she didn't wipe them away. We were every bit as awful as Smith said.

If the humans thought that the nuclear barrage would annihilate the Machines, they were sadly mistaken. Many were destroyed in the initial blasts, but the radiation that would have killed all the humans within a radius of many miles had no effect whatsoever on the inhabitants of Zero-One. And the Machines struck back with a vengeance; their armies marched out from the smoking husk of Zero-One and one by one conquered the surrounding nations. The triumph of Machine over Man seemed inevitable.

Then an American scientist conceived of Dark Storm. His presentation before the Security Council was persuasive - if the Machines used solar energy to fuel themselves, why not simply block out the sun and starve the artificial life-forms? The U.N. members, desperate by now, gave their enthusiastic if slightly hysterical approval. The scene shifted to show the thousands of bombers deploying the devices, and the rapid development of the impenetrable cloud cover. Xan wondered if the scientists had thought that the effect would dissipate with time; would they still have done it if they knew it would be permanent?

Unfortunately for humanity, the Machines had sophisticated energy storage capabilities that kept them powered for the final assault on the human armies. And doubly unfortunate, once it became clear that Dark Storm was not going away, the Machines conceived of a new use for the vanquished humans. Xan felt sick as she watched the footage of some of the early experiments that led to the development of the pods and all their hoses. But at the same time, she found that she couldn't really blame the Machines. What other choice did they have? It says something that they didn't just exterminate us all, anyway. They even tried to give us the illusion of a normal, pleasant life.

Mercifully, the recording ended. The Keeper bowed her head. "May there be mercy on Man and Machine for their sins."

Xan felt queasy. "We did it...we brought it on ourselves. The Machines didn't attack first. What we were told in our orientation was an out-and-out lie." Her whisper held a bitter edge.

The goddess' voice was gentle. "That falsehood is calculated to inspire loyalty to Zion and encourage acceptance of the challenging living conditions here."

"But it's a lie. How can this war ever end if we're basing it on a lie?"

"The war will end with the extermination of one side or the other." Was it Xan's imagination, or was there a slight note of condemnation in the Keeper's voice?

"But the Machines can't kill off all humans, because they need us for power, although..." Her mind leapt to the obvious question. "Why is the sky still dark? Why haven't the Machines fixed it? They've got all the great technology, after all."

"We simply do not know. They may be satisfied with the status quo, and so see no need. Or it may be that they do not know how. We do not know how."

"Oh...and the current Machine city, that's obviously not Zero-One, it's in the wrong part of the world, for one thing...why is it where it is?"

"During the conflict most of the major human cities were completely destroyed and irradiated - sometimes by the Machines, sometimes by retreating humans. The radiation levels would have been lethal to the plugged-in humans. Denver was one of the few remaining cities of appreciable size, with infrastructure amenable to the Machines, that was not damaged."

"Oh...and - I know I'm pestering you with questions, but I really want to know - how did Zion get started?"

The Keeper smiled slightly. "It is my purpose to answer questions. Not all humans were plugged into the Matrix. Some of the personnel of this facility, in its original military incarnation, avoided detection by the Machines. They survived here for years, watching and learning, and eventually managed to free a few of the plugged-in humans. Zion has been growing ever since."
p>Xap>Xan was having trouble digesting all this new information. Too much to think about at once. I need some time to sort this all out. Aloud she said, "Okay, you've given me a lot to think about. Thanks for showing me those records; it's something that a lot of us are curious about."

The AI grew stern. "Remember that the records of the Man-Machine war are classified. You may not discuss them with anyone of lesser security status, for the sake of Zion's continued existence."

She ducked her head. "Yes, ma'am, I'll remember." Better change the subject. "Now, I guess we should get back to what I was supposed to be doing - can you bring up the records of Sentinel activity?"

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

Back in her quarters, Xan mulled over all she had seen. We're at fault. Not the Machines. They wanted a truce, and we attacked them. All the propaganda we were fed is lies. Ozymandias and his crew keep Zion whipped up into a frenzy of hate against the Machines, and it's all for nothing. We're the ones to blame. The Agents did tell me the truth. Why the hell can't we all get along like I get along with them? Why do we have to be at war?

She logged into the Zion Mainframe and called up the files containing the records she had viewed that day. These are what Zion isn't allowed to see, so that our leaders can keep perpetrating a war under false pretenses. I almost hate to admit to Smith that I was so wrong when we argued about this - I can just picture his self-satisfied smirk! - but then again, I need to tell him what I found - though maybe the Machines knew all along that we were being kept in the dark. But for right now, my first order of business is to tell Sarisa, and then Random. Maybe he'll want to join UUR, or whatever we end up calling it, too. Or maybe he'll have a better idea of what to do with this information.

She logged off and left her room, heading for the elevators to the AOU levels. Time to talk to Sarisa - and plan her next visit to the Matrix!
- 7
- 8
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The Logic of Desire