02-05-2016, 07:03 AM
Smith floated in a dark void, a pit so black that he wasn’t even sure if even HE existed. Was this deletion? The last thing he remembered was forcing his code into Mr. Anderson. His victory had come to pass, just as he’d foretold, and the One had fallen. The look of peace on Mr. Anderson’s face at the end had been a bit… unnerving, truth to tell, but the elation the once-Agent had felt in that moment had overridden any caution he might have had. Not only had he defeated his foe, the man who had taken away his purpose, but by taken over his body, Smith would have his power at his own beck and call.
With the power of the One, Smith would destroy both the Matrix and the world outside it. Both human and machine would fall against his might, beg for mercy, and be dispassionately removed from existence. Then, and only then, would Smith have finally achieved his goal. Without a human race to give reason to the Matrix, and without the machines to govern it, he would no longer have to walk amongst the filth and depravity of humanity.
But then, it was all snatched away from him. Smith remembered the anger and fear that had taken over his programming when he first realized what had happened. That fool! Even as his bodies erupted into white light, Smith cursed Mr. Anderson. He had entered the Matrix through the source! And now the Ex-Agent was being deleted… his purpose unfulfilled. The Machines were absolute in their drive to wipe his program, and it wasn’t long before nothing was left of the program known as Smith.
And now he was nothing at all. The blackness stretched out to infinity around Smith. For a while, the Agent boiled in impotent fury, but that soon passed as the logic of his programming took hold of him. Perhaps he had not been successful in his self-appointed mission… but it seemed that his true goal had been met nonetheless. He was no longer in the Matrix. He was deleted, and would no longer have to tolerate the disgusting smell of humanity. That thought gave him peace.
But once again, this was not to last. He worked over his situation, the logic gates of his mind clicking through the possibilities. No. He could not have been deleted. Had Smith truly been wiped from the core memory of the Source, then he would have no consciousness left to think. But he had most certainly been deleted. Though he’d never experienced it before, what he had felt at that time was most assuredly a destruction of his central programming. So… what was this place? And why was he not destroyed?
Just then, a bright light shone in the darkness, and a streak of fear wormed its way through Smith’s files. That was it, wasn’t it? This was the reset. The Matrix was being reborn, and the Machines had taken their vengeance for his coup by reintegrating him into it! A strange white figure formed from the light, an almost boyish creature with a huge smile. Smith’s program ran a scorn subroutine. The Architect, undoubtedly. Or perhaps the Oracle, returned from the dead. Or… possibly even some combination of the two. Regardless, as the thing began its monologue, Smith couldn’t help but to try to attack it. When he found he could not move, he settled for merely simmering in anger. Fortunately, his system memory was recording the words of the white man, or he might have missed something in his rage. As his rage dissipated, his mind ran over what it had said.
Omnilium… Omniverse… Anything you desired? What were the Machines thinking?! They had tried this ideal world concept before, in the Matrix’s original iteration and it had failed miserably. Doing so again would undoubtedly have the same end result. Why…? Had this been part of a bargain struck by Mr. Anderson with the Machines? Smith didn’t have long to ponder the reason why before the one who called himself Omni vanished and the world began to change around him.
With the power of the One, Smith would destroy both the Matrix and the world outside it. Both human and machine would fall against his might, beg for mercy, and be dispassionately removed from existence. Then, and only then, would Smith have finally achieved his goal. Without a human race to give reason to the Matrix, and without the machines to govern it, he would no longer have to walk amongst the filth and depravity of humanity.
But then, it was all snatched away from him. Smith remembered the anger and fear that had taken over his programming when he first realized what had happened. That fool! Even as his bodies erupted into white light, Smith cursed Mr. Anderson. He had entered the Matrix through the source! And now the Ex-Agent was being deleted… his purpose unfulfilled. The Machines were absolute in their drive to wipe his program, and it wasn’t long before nothing was left of the program known as Smith.
And now he was nothing at all. The blackness stretched out to infinity around Smith. For a while, the Agent boiled in impotent fury, but that soon passed as the logic of his programming took hold of him. Perhaps he had not been successful in his self-appointed mission… but it seemed that his true goal had been met nonetheless. He was no longer in the Matrix. He was deleted, and would no longer have to tolerate the disgusting smell of humanity. That thought gave him peace.
But once again, this was not to last. He worked over his situation, the logic gates of his mind clicking through the possibilities. No. He could not have been deleted. Had Smith truly been wiped from the core memory of the Source, then he would have no consciousness left to think. But he had most certainly been deleted. Though he’d never experienced it before, what he had felt at that time was most assuredly a destruction of his central programming. So… what was this place? And why was he not destroyed?
Just then, a bright light shone in the darkness, and a streak of fear wormed its way through Smith’s files. That was it, wasn’t it? This was the reset. The Matrix was being reborn, and the Machines had taken their vengeance for his coup by reintegrating him into it! A strange white figure formed from the light, an almost boyish creature with a huge smile. Smith’s program ran a scorn subroutine. The Architect, undoubtedly. Or perhaps the Oracle, returned from the dead. Or… possibly even some combination of the two. Regardless, as the thing began its monologue, Smith couldn’t help but to try to attack it. When he found he could not move, he settled for merely simmering in anger. Fortunately, his system memory was recording the words of the white man, or he might have missed something in his rage. As his rage dissipated, his mind ran over what it had said.
Omnilium… Omniverse… Anything you desired? What were the Machines thinking?! They had tried this ideal world concept before, in the Matrix’s original iteration and it had failed miserably. Doing so again would undoubtedly have the same end result. Why…? Had this been part of a bargain struck by Mr. Anderson with the Machines? Smith didn’t have long to ponder the reason why before the one who called himself Omni vanished and the world began to change around him.