Chapter 2 - Learning to Fly
I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing
-Tom Petty, "Learning to Fly"
The boots were too big, but Sorcha didn't mind. The fronts of her toes were red and sore from colliding against the unyielding and unpadded shells, but she wasn't about to complain - not even to herself - because they were Trinity's extra pair. Sorcha had small feet, and though Switch was closest to her size, she had traded her spare boots for three extra blankets the last time the Neb had docked at Zion. So, on the day that Morpheus finally allowed his newest charge to be moved from the incubator to the room that had nominally been Apoc's for the past year, Trinity had cranked open the door and thrust her second-best boots into Sorcha's still-weak hands.
Sorcha clutched the boots to her chest, not trusting her arms not to shake.
"They're probably too big," Trinity said, turning to leave. She hadn't even made eye contact, and Sorcha subconsciously rubbed one as-yet-uncallused palm over the spiky prickle of her hair. Am I that awful to look at?
"That's okay," she stuttered, wishing that Trinity would talk to her like she had in the Matrix. That soft voice, the comforting caress - had she imagined them? What is real? "I'll give them back as soon as…" She trailed off, realizing that she had no idea where, or even whether, she would be able to get her own boots in this strange, real world.
Perhaps it was the vulnerable uncertainty of her voice that finally cracked Trinity's brusque façade, or maybe the older woman just felt sorry for her ignorance. Whatever it was, Trinity's rigid shoulders relaxed a little, and she turned back slowly, almost reluctantly. But this time she did meet Sorcha's gaze, and her eyes were soft steel.
"You'll be issued a pair when we get to Zion," she replied, the edge mostly gone from her voice.
Sorcha felt her lips curling up in an involuntary smile. It hurt. Dozer had explained that sometimes the tiniest muscles were the most sore, since they couldn't be isolated for rehabilitation… but the irony remained.
"Zion," she whispered. The word tasted good - like the memory of fresh air, or blue sky. "What's it like?"
The tightness in Trinity's face smoothed slightly - the closest Sorcha had seen her come to a smile outside of the Matrix. "It's -" she trailed off, eyes glazing over slightly as though she were looking inside herself. "It's amazing. Intricate. Big." She let out a short bark of pseudo-laughter. "It smells pretty bad, and everything's hard - no soft surfaces. Like here, in the Neb. But it's warm."
And then, suddenly, her face closed up again - as though a shutter had been drawn across the window of her eyes. "I need to get back to the Core," she said. "And you should sleep." And then she was gone.
Now, Sorcha shuffled along the sinuous corridors of the Nebudchanezzar towards the Core, a fresh lump of synthetic protein in her stomach and the lingering tendrils of yesterday's headache still squeezing her brain. Her quadriceps and hamstrings ached with every step, and her abdominals twitched painfully at every breath, from Trinity's relentless morning conditioning drills. Situps, pushups, leg lifts… over and over until every muscle in her body was twitching uncontrollably. But she was getting stronger - slowly, yes, but steadily - and that made the pain bearable.
She grinned - it no longer hurt - and quickened her painful steps. What would she learn today? A new martial art? A new programming language? How to operate some new machine, or fire some new weapon? The excitement dulled her soreness, and she burst into the Core at a near jog.
"Well, well," Switch drawled, looking up from where she was fiddling with the hydraulics on one of the chairs. "Good morning, fuzzhead!"
Sorcha tried to glare at her, but the grin got in the way. "Just you wait," she replied heatedly, skidding to a halt across the chair from Switch. "Once I'm done with my training, I'm going to kick your ass in the dojo once for every time you've called me that!"
"Twenty-six," Apoc called from across the room, just before Switch arched an imperiously blonde eyebrow and replied,
"But does she have bite as well as bark?"
By way of an answer, Sorcha jumped up to grab one of the cold-water pipes that ran across the low ceiling, and pulled herself up, inch by inch, until her forehead was level with the cool metal. Her forearms and back screamed in protest, but she gritted her teeth and kept pulling.
"One more inch, kid," Tank's voice suddenly echoed off the metal walls. "One more inch and you've got yesterday beat." Sorcha desperately heaved at the bar, feeling sweat pop out along her hairline despite the chill air. Miraculously, she felt herself rise up every so slightly… and then suddenly, her arms and back gave out and she dropped to the floor like a stone. Switch grabbed her around the waist as her feet touched down, and Sorcha leaned against her gratefully.
"You'll tear something, doing that," she warned softly, the sarcasm gone from her voice.
"No," Sorcha panted. "No, I won't. I'm. Warmed up." She lifted her eyes from the floor and found Tank's proud, eager face. "I got it, didn't I?"
"You'll have your chin above that bar in a week or less," he replied, smiling broadly at her. Sorcha grinned back and pulled away from Switch, but not before muttering a soft "thank you."
"So - what's the plan for today, operator?" she asked, boosting herself into her chair. Tank swiveled to face his console and flipped through a series of disks.
"Today, good neighbors, we'll be studying the letter 'M'." He paused for effect and laughed off Switch's derisive snort. "This includes… M16s, some math, a whole series of medical programs, Trinity's favorite - " he shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Sorcha and saw her eyes light up - "motorcycles - Molotov cocktails, mechanics…"
"Masturbation," interrupted Mouse, sauntering jauntily into the Core and heading straight to his favorite programming console. Sorcha's face flooded crimson from her neck up.
"You're the only one who needs a program for that, Mouse," Apoc fired back, smirking. Mouse flashed him a wide, innocent grin and stayed quiet.
"Anyway," Tank continued. "It's a full day." He turned back to look at Sorcha again. "You ready?"
Sorcha took a deep breath, willing her embarrassment to fade. It was time to go to work. "Yes," she replied, involuntarily gritting her teeth as she waited for the spike to plunge into her brain. Switch's face suddenly loomed above her.
"Have fun, fuzzhead," she said sweetly. Metal screamed on metal, and the world turned to white.
Trinity sat alone in the mess, methodically spooning the white mush into her mouth. She had meant to share the midday meal with the others, today, but welding several weak spots in the emergency generator had taken longer than expected. So, she was surprised when the door of the mess opened to admit Morpheus, who also poured himself lunch and sat down across from her. For a while, the only sound to be heard was the dull scrape of spoon against bowl. But finally, Morpheus lifted his glittering eyes to regard his second-in-command.
"How is Sorcha?" he asked quietly. Trinity raised her head, and inscrutable gaze met inscrutable gaze.
"She's improving," she replied. "Steadily getting stronger, both physically and mentally. Six hours a day with Tank, two with me in conditioning, and I have her shadowing the others in rotation for the rest of her time."
Morpheus's eyes widened slightly. "Two hours a day of physical training? Is that strictly necessary? She'll get a lot of that at the Academy."
Trinity pushed her bowl to one side, folded her arms on the table. "True… but right now, her strength inside the Construct grows faster when she makes improvements outside of it." She tossed her head to dislodge an errant strand of black hair, then continued, "The first time I sparred with her in the dojo, she was much more sluggish than she should have been, given the amount of information she'd absorbed. She finally confessed to having trouble believing she could be strong when her physical body was so weak."
"Free your mind," Morpheus murmured, grinning slightly.
"Yes," she replied, blue eyes hooded in concentration, "but she has the reverse problem from most. I think it'll work to her advantage, in the long run - she'll be more likely to honestly believe that what happens to her in the Matrix isn't actually happening to her body."
Morpheus rested his elbows on the cool, metal table and steepled his fingers under his chin. "She'll be a late bloomer."
"But her focus will be formidable."
Morpheus nodded, then, and leaned back in his chair. It creaked softly. "You've done well, Trinity," he said. "I'm impressed with how you've adjusted the training regimen to fit with her strengths and weaknesses."
Trinity nodded without comment, her intense stare again locking with Morpheus'. Finally, she leaned forward slightly.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly, but her voice vibrated with a strange urgency. "We should have docked at Zion within hours of unplugging her."
A small smile rippled his lips, sardonic and secretive, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. Trinity resented him for it.
"Every captain," he replied mildly, "needs to be experienced with training."
"I'm not a captain," she said, voice strained. "And I have no wish to be."
"Does that matter?" he asked, the words tinged with an uncommon note of sadness. "If I were to die, you would have no choice. "
"That's always been a possibility," she fired back. "What makes now suddenly different?"
The silence between them stretched through the cramped room, stretched until the very air seemed to shimmer with the tension, like a mirage.
When Morpheus spoke again, his tone was an eerie hybrid of reverence and excitement. "We're getting close, Trinity - I know it. Close to finding the One." Her mouth tightened, and she crossed her arms under her breasts, but his words didn't falter. "The machines know, somehow. Isn't it obvious? The number of Agent attacks has doubled over the past few months. We're getting closer, and they're getting desperate."
Trinity drew a sharp breath. "The Oracle told you this?"
"Not in so many words," he replied. "But things are changing in there, Trinity - you know they are. They're watching for us much more diligently. And if I die - " The thin, long muscles of Trinity's throat constricted in a swallow before she could stop them - "if I die, you need to be the captain. Not the second-in-command who slinks back to Zion and waits for someone else to be promoted. The captain."
Again, silence. Silence until the metal walls of the mess were echoing with it, bouncing it back and forth, crests of waves coinciding with crests of other waves, building and building and building…
"I understand," was all she said, finally. Not looking at Morpheus.
"But you don't like it."
"Of course not!" she snapped, blue eyes suddenly blazing into his, spheres of frozen fire. He waited for the verbal barrage to continue, but she clamped her lips shut, pressing them together so tightly that they quickly faded from red to white.
Knowing that he wasn't going to get another word out of her, at least not on this subject, he pushed back his chair. The steel legs screeched gratingly against the titanium floor.
"Sorcha's been in the sims for nearly two weeks," he told her. "Think she's ready to try the jump?"
Trinity rose as well - smoothly, fluidly. Her catlike grace was always striking to him, even after nearly ten years of working with her in close quarters. "May as well," she said stiffly. She looked him full in the face again, and he was relieved to see that the fires behind her eyes had been temporarily damped. "I assume you want me to take her?"
"Yes."
She nodded - tiredly, he thought - and turned towards the door. "Let's get it over with, then."
"Hail, hail, the gang's all here," murmured Cypher when Trinity and Morpheus entered the Core. Trinity went to Tank and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezed slightly.
"How's she doing?"
He leaned forward to peer at one of the monitors and Trinity let her hand fall away. "Almost finished with motorcycles," Tank reported, twisting slightly to watch her reaction. She graced him with a twisted half-smile.
"Ahh, that's a great one." She moved towards the empty chair on Sorcha's right. "When she's finished, load her into the jump."
Tank sighed, but his fingers were a blur on the keyboard. "I'm not going to like this," he muttered.
"Everybody has to take the fall sometime," Switch pointed out gently.
"I still don't have to like it, do I?" he asked glumly, then looked around the room. "Someone have some ice ready, will you?"
Dozer looked up from where he was crouched under a chair, fiddling with its wire connections. "I'll get it," he rumbled.
"Got a crush on this one, Tank?" Cypher asked, snickering. Tank rolled his eyes.
"Give it up, will you? I like her. She's fun, and spunky. Optimistic. How many optimistic people do you know?" He sighed again at the silence in the Core. "I think I'm allowed to not want to watch her fall forty stories."
"She might make it," Mouse pointed out.
Cypher laughed at him, stroking the right tip of his mustache. "As the youngest member of this ship," he announced to no one in particular, "Mouse clearly is unaware that nobody makes the first jump. Nobody."
Tank's back stiffened, but all he said was, "Apoc, will you plug Trinity in, please?"
At that moment, Sorcha's green eyes fluttered open, and she grinned. I can drive a motorcycle, she thought in exultation. All at once, physical sensation came flooding back into her brain - cold, cramped. I wish I had a huge mug full of cocoa, was her next thought. But then suddenly, Morpheus' pockmarked face was hovering above her. She swallowed and opened her mouth to ask what was happening -
"Time for something a little different, Sorcha," he told her, before she could get a word out. The real world disappeared again.
She was standing on a rooftop, in the middle of a city. Skyscrapers rose around her on all sides, like the giant trunks of artificial trees. Twenty feet in front of her, the roof gave way to a fifty-foot - maybe more? - swath of air. Must be a street down there, she thought. And then suddenly, panic raced through her blood - was this the Matrix?
"Hello, Sorcha," the familiar voice came from behind her, and she whirled around so quickly that the skyscraper forest swam in front of her eyes for a few seconds, until she could convince herself that she wasn't really dizzy.
"Trinity," Sorcha breathed, "are we-"
"No," she interrupted, "this isn't the Matrix. It's another training simulation."
Sorcha exhaled loudly, then shot a rueful smile at the older woman. "Sorry - I guess I just don't feel ready for the Matrix, yet."
"It's understandable," Trinity said, and moved to stand next to her. Sorcha coughed nervously and looked down at rough concrete floor. "You've changed your RSI."
"Yes," Sorcha replied eagerly, finally daring to look up into Trinity's unshielded eyes. "Do you like it?"
The corners of her lips turned up slightly, forcing Sorcha's mouth into a full-blown grin. "It's striking," Trinity said. "Silver suits you."
"Thanks," Sorcha managed to stutter, her eyes falling once again to where the tips of her silver boots peeked out from the wide bottoms of her silver leather pants. "So, uh, what does this sim do?"
"It tests how well you can differentiate the Construct from the real world," Trinity replied, looking across the gap of air to the rooftop beyond. At the word "test," Sorcha squared her shoulders and made herself look up again.
"What must I do?"
"How deeply do you believe what you've been learning?" she asked, pinning Sorcha helplessly with the intensity of her bright blue gaze. "Is the air real? Are the laws of physics unbreakable?"
"No," Sorcha breathed, spellbound. God, she's beautiful… The thought knifed through her brain before she could stop it, and she felt heat creep into her cheeks. But if Trinity noticed, she gave no sign.
"No?" she asked. "Then you should have no trouble doing this." And before Sorcha could even think about asking what "this" was, Trinity was running smoothly, steadily, towards the drop-off.
No! the scream echoed inside her head, and she took a trembling step forward…
… but then Trinity was sailing across the gap, rising up, impossibly up, only to descend smoothly in an arc that ended on the roof of the building across the street.
"My God," Sorcha whispered, in awe. She felt frozen, rooted to the concrete by shock. Amazing. She watched Trinity turn towards her, and though she couldn't make out any of the details of her face, she knew what it would look like. The thin, left eyebrow quirked up, a mysterious half-smile twisting her mouth. The bright glint in her eyes urging, daring - C'mon, do it. It's not real. Not impossible.
Sorcha looked up into the false blue sky, as much to delay the inevitable as to summon her courage. All I have to do is believe. If I believe, I'll make it. And if I make it… Trinity would be proud. She knew it. She would be proud, and she might even smile at her. A real smile.
Sorcha squared her shoulders, adjusting the silver straps of her glimmering tank top. "I can do this," she muttered. "This is not impossible. This is a computer program. The gravity is fake." She pushed her hair - chin length instead of stubble, back behind her ears. "Just keep your eyes on her. It's not real."
Her muscles tensed - a sprinter at the starting gate - and then she was running, running, and her red hair was flying behind her. The silver pants flapped slightly in her self-created breeze. The edge drew nearer, but Sorcha didn't take her eyes off Trinity. I just have to reach her. That's all. It isn't real. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw her right foot reach the ledge… and shoved off hard. Oh God, oh God, oh God… please… have to make it… isn't real…
She remembered how Trinity had soared, up and up in a beautiful, perfect arc… and miraculously felt herself rising. Rising up through the air, one leg stretched out before her and one tucked up behind, as though she were jumping a hurdle. Up and up - it's working, it's working! - and the swell of triumph lifted her even higher.
"God in Heaven," whispered Tank as he watched the monitors with widening eyes.
"Holy shit!" cried Mouse, simultaneously.
"No fucking way," hissed Cypher.
Morpheus' mouth opened soundlessly.
And then Sorcha looked down. The cars were the size of the micromachines that her little brother, Evan, used to play with on the linoleum kitchen floor.
If I fall, I'll die! Again, the thought came before she could stop it, but this time, panic rose in her chest - filling her lungs, squeezing her heart, drowning out the steady mantra of it's not real, it's not real.
You can't jump fifty feet! The panic clamored. You're insane, and you're going to die! She stopped rising, and began to fall.
"No!" she cried out, lunging forward in mid-air, stretching out like Superwoman, trying desperately to catch hold of the opposite ledge. Trinity…
She felt her fingertips brush concrete, and then she was hurtling down, down, faster and faster, the wind tearing at her hair, her clothes. Tears were streaming down her face, and the cars were getting bigger and bigger; she could make out the stoplights now, and the white grids of the crosswalks.
I'm going to die.
It isn't real!
I'm going to die.
She watched the pavement approach - solid, black, hard. Closer and closer. Trinity… Oh God, I'm not ready to die, not yet, not yet… Trinity…
It isn't real!
Reflexively, she twisted her head to the side, just before impact… but instead of a sudden flash of pain and darkness, the ground yielded beneath her. Disbelieving, she felt her headlong speed slow - and then she was rising up again, the earth itself propelling her up -
Whump!
The breath rushed out of her as she bellyflopped against the pavement, and for a long moment, she lay there gasping, trying to make her lungs refill with air. Everything hurt. Her hands and cheek were stinging, and somehow, she had bitten her tongue. Her stomach felt like it had been used as Morpheus' punching bag. Slowly, painfully, she raised herself into a sitting position, craning her neck to try to catch a glimpse of Trinity up on high.
See? It wasn't real!
Oh, yeah? That damn pavement was hard enough, the second time around!
And then her breath hitched for a different reason, as she abruptly caught sight of a black blur hurtling towards her from above. She gasped. Trinity? Falling? Doesn't make sense…
As she drew closer and closer, though, Sorcha's fear receded in place of wonder. Trinity twisted sinuously through the air like an Olympian high-diver, her movements controlled and precise. Sorcha tensed as she approached the asphalt… but with a graceful twist, Trinity landed in a low crouch, her left knee almost touching the ground. The earth buckled beneath her, the force of her impact rolling out like waves. They jostled Sorcha painfully.
Trinity stood up straight and reached a hand down to the awestruck girl, but Sorcha just continued to stare at her reverently. "God, that was amazing," she breathed.
"Are you okay?" Trinity asked urgently. When Sorcha simply nodded, still dazed, she exhaled sharply. "Then take my hand. C'mon -"
The older woman pulled her up with a surprising gentleness, but Sorcha couldn't quite bite back the moan that erupted from her lips at the movement.
"I thought none of this was real," she groaned, clutching her abdomen. Trinity's expression instantly changed from concerned to bemused, much to Sorcha's dismay.
"It's not. You're not hurt. You only think you are - your mind is making it real."
The implication was clear - snap out of it, kid. The fear, the adrenaline, the despair… suddenly they coalesced into anger and surged beneath Sorcha's skin. She glared at Trinity, a thin haze of red slightly masking her vision. How could she let me fall?
"Good joke, eh?" she snarled. "Scare the newbie shitless, right? Well, I get it. I get it, okay? Nothing is fucking real." She forced herself to stand up straight, forced her muscles to quit throbbing. Surprisingly, they did. And when she turned her hands over and willed the bloody scratches away, they began to close up. For some reason, that made her even angrier, especially when Trinity's bemused look gave way to an open, mocking grin.
"Tank!" she bellowed at the too-cloudless sky. "Get me the hell out of here!"
She opened her eyes to chaos.
"- but what does it mean?" Mouse was asking Cypher, while simultaneously darting half nervous, half admiring glances in Sorcha's direction.
"Dozer, I want the ship at broadcast depth now!" Morpheus' voice rang authoritatively through the Core.
"Here, fuzzhead," said Switch as she removed Sorcha's spike. "Have some ice for your face. You're going to have one hell of a shiner." Sorcha sat up and touched her right cheek gingerly.
"Damn," she muttered. "Forgot about that."
"Apoc -" Morpheus continued, "You're driving. We'll go in first - Trinity and Sorcha will follow."
"What's going on?" Trinity's voice cut through the babble. Sorcha dared a glance at her and saw that she was just sitting up, her eyes focused on Morpheus.
"We're going to the Oracle," he replied. "I want Sorcha to see her, now. I want an explanation for what happened in there."
"I'll give you a goddamned explanation," muttered Switch, who clamped her mouth shut as soon as Sorcha shot her a curious glance.
"This isn't what you think it is, Morpheus," Trinity said quietly, forcefully, as she went to stand next to him. Sorcha leaned forward to try to catch the rest of their dialogue.
"She isn't who you think she is," Trinity spoke again. "I know it."
"I have to be sure."
"I am sure."
"How?"
Sorcha blinked in surprise when Trinity refused to answer and dropped her eyes from Morpheus' face. "Even if she isn't," he continued softly, "it's still worth a visit to be positive."
"Fine," Trinity replied after a moment, the momentary chink in her armor no longer visible. "You want me to follow you?"
"Give us a ten-minute head start."
Sorcha felt the ship begin to slow, and pressed the chunk of ice - wrapped in a ragged towel - more firmly against the bruise just below her right eye. She felt as though a lump of white goop had lodged itself in her throat. What have I done? She'll never talk to me again! I can't believe what I said… idiot idiot idiot!
But suddenly, a cold hand pressed down lightly on her shoulder, and then Trinity was crouching next to her chair, where Switch had been a moment before. "How's the face?" she asked quietly, taking hold of the towel and lifting it slightly to inspect the bruise.
"It'll be okay," Sorcha stammered, picking at a loose thread on the armrests. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to lock eyes with the older woman. "Trinity-" she began, but two chilled fingers against her lips silenced her and raised goosebumps on the back of her neck.
"You had every right to be angry," Trinity told her firmly. "I know you didn't really mean it." She shook her head, pursing her lips slightly. "You should've heard me tell off Morpheus after my first jump. I was so damn pissed off that I didn't make it, and I blamed him… but there are some things you can't be told, or taught. Some things, you just need to learn through experience."
Sorcha could do nothing more than blink at her. That was the most that Trinity had ever spoken to her at one time, and surprise, following close on the heels of relief, rendered her speechless.
"I know you don't feel ready for the Matrix," Trinity continued, "but you are. You proved it in there." A lock of dark hair fell across one eye and she drew it back behind her right ear. "There are just a few things to remember. First, keep track of your phone. If we get separated, press the speed dial button. That will put you through to Tank."
"We're going into the Matrix?" Sorcha asked weakly. She felt like the wheels of her brain were spinning hopelessly in deep mud - spinning and spinning but never getting anywhere.
Meanwhile, Trinity was nodding her dark head. "Morpheus wants you to see the Oracle."
"The Oracle?" Sorcha couldn't have kept the disbelieving note from her voice if she had tried. "The Oracle who prophesied about the One?"
"Yes," Trinity replied impatiently. "The second thing to remember is that if you see anything - anything - that doesn't look normal, tell me. Got that?"
Sorcha just nodded, still trying to tamp down the rush of fear that had the fine hairs on her arms standing upright. The Matrix. Agents.
"Finally…" Trinity paused for a moment. "The Matrix is like the Construct. You can bend the rules. You're only limited by what you believe." Her blue eyes bored into Sorcha's green ones. "Never forget that. Never."
Sorcha managed to lift her chin slightly. "I won't," she replied. Miraculously, her voice didn't shake.
Trinity rose to her full height and stretched, clasping her long, toned arms above her head. The movement tightened her loose shirt against her skin, and Sorcha couldn't stop her eyes from momentarily lingering on the shape of her full breasts. Cut it out! she berated herself fiercely. What was the matter with her today?
"Then let's go."
This is not real on several levels, thought Sorcha, wanting to giggle. Her hair was getting hopelessly tangled, but she didn't care. How could she possibly, when she was sitting behind Trinity on a sleek black motorcycle, her bare arms clasped around Trinity's thin, leather-clad waist, her sore cheek pressed against Trinity's back. She told me to hang on, and that's what I'm doing! Sorcha protested inwardly. But she had to stifle another giggle. I'm supposed to be watching for abnormalities, her conscience reminded sternly. And Agents. The desire to laugh suddenly fled.
The motorcycle began to slow, and Trinity finally pulled into a parking space in front of a tall but shabby apartment building. "Here we are," she said over her shoulder. Filled with reluctance, the cause of which she did not want to examine too closely, Sorcha released her hold on Trinity and swung down onto the sidewalk.
"So," she began hesitantly as Trinity led her to the narrow door - its small pane of glass missing - that was the only entrance to the building. "The Oracle… she knows the future?"
Trinity frowned, and pushed the door open a bit harder than was strictly necessary. "I don't know. But Morpheus thinks so."
"You don't believe in her?"
Trinity pressed the "up" button on the elevator with a gloved thumb and looked down at Sorcha for a moment before answering. The girl could see herself in Trinity's reflective shades - her silver top and red hair gleamed dully in the dim, flickering lights.
"What she told me… hasn't been proven. But it also hasn't been disproven."
Trinity was silent for the duration of the elevator ride, and Sorcha found herself wondering just what exactly the Oracle had told her. One thing was sure - she didn't want to talk about it. So Sorcha spent the slow trip up trying to convince herself that the smell of urine emanating strongly from the back left corner wasn't real.
The elevator doors dinged open to the sight of Apoc leaning nonchalantly against the opposite wall. "Perfect timing," he said. "Morpheus is just coming out."
Sure enough, the third door down on the left was halfway open - Morpheus stood beneath the frame, talking to someone inside the apartment. As Trinity and Sorcha approached, however, his head swiveled towards them.
"Sorcha," he greeted. "Come this way." She had to resist the urge to look back at Trinity as she walked through the open door; in fact, she was resisting so hard that the sight of an attractive young black woman, dressed in flowing black pants and a loose white shirt, made her jump.
The woman laughed, but not unkindly. "Didn't mean to startle you, Sorcha," she said warmly. "Come this way." She led her through the den of a shabby but clean apartment - the couch had stuffing poking out from its seams, but it looked profoundly comfortable. Sorcha suddenly found herself missing her parents' reclining armchair. She had loved nothing more than to climb into its warm, soft embrace on a cold winter's evening over Christmas vacation and read by gentle lamplight far into the night…
"Here we are," the woman suddenly announced, dispelling Sorcha's reverie. She blinked her glazed eyes, struggling to focus on a wholly unremarkable kitchen, in which a plump black woman - older, with curly gray hair - was stirring a small pot on a gas stove.
"Come on in, Sorcha," she said slowly in a rich, soothing voice. "You've had a long day. Take a seat."
"Uh," Sorcha replied, totally nonplussed by her surroundings, "thanks." She edged into the room and perched on a padded wooden chair. Was this the Oracle? I guess I was expecting the Temple at Delphi…
"I suppose congratulations are in order," the Oracle continued, "for almost making your first jump. Morpheus tells me that's a big deal." The woman turned around to smile at her, and Sorcha couldn't help but smile back into those dark, friendly eyes.
She has a good face.
"He came in here all riled up, wanting to know why you were able to do what you did, today." She turned back to the pot, but not before Sorcha saw her black eyebrows raise slightly. "He even thought you might be the One."
Sorcha sucked in a sharp breath. "Me? But that's… that's…"
"It's not ridiculous at all," she finished the sentence effortlessly. "You must understand, that finding the One is Morpheus' life-quest. His greatest goal. So when you did something so unusual - well, he had to suspect."
"But I'm not the One." As she said it, Sorcha knew it was true, and was surprised to find herself disappointed.
"No, you're not." The Oracle dipped a spoon into the pot and tasted its contents. "Almost ready," she murmured, and faced Sorcha again. "Why don't you tell me why you almost made it."
Abruptly, the panic rose in her again - the panic of the fall. The memory was fresh and it pressed in on her, squeezing her stomach, her lungs, her throat. Why? She knew why. Trinity… Yes, she knew, but she did not want to admit it - not to herself, and not to this woman, this Oracle, who was so casually bringing about her own personal apocalypse. But the pressure - oh the terrible pressure of dishonesty, even merely by omission…
"I'm in love with her!" she gasped suddenly, as though the words had been wrenched from her lips. Redness seized her face, and she stared at the frayed green tablecloth with a dizzying intensity. Oh God, what have I done?
The Oracle lay one warm hand on her shoulder, and with the other, deposited a huge mug full of steaming hot chocolate in front of her trembling, folded hands. "I know you miss it," she said softly, lowering herself into the other chair.
Sorcha raised her eyes and smiled tremulously. "Th…thank you," she stammered, and carefully lifted the mug to her mouth. She paused, relishing the anticipation, then slowly let her lips touch the warm liquid. Sweet. Rich. Thick. She rolled it around her mouth, letting it soak into the tastebuds of her tongue, into the skin of her cheeks, then finally letting it slide down her throat. Heaven.
The Oracle watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, smiling at her unabashed enjoyment. "Why does it frighten you so?" she asked gently.
Sorcha's green eyes were wide and confused, and she cocked her head like one of the sparrows that came to the feeder outside the kitchen window. "Isn't it… isn't it wrong? That's what my parents always said."
The Oracle laughed - a deep, woman's laugh. "Honey, I don't do right and wrong. I only know true and false - to be and not to be." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "But let me ask you this - are your parents truly your parents?"
Sorcha set the mug down with a quiet thud. "God," she whispered. "I hadn't thought of that."
"You have to make up your own mind about whether it's right or wrong, child," the Oracle continued gently. "I'll tell you this much, though - if you don't find the courage to act on what you feel… well, Trinity may not be able to make a very important choice."
"What do you mean?" Sorcha asked, frowning. "What choice?"
"Trinity is important," the Oracle mused, idly stroking the handle of her mug with tender fingers. "More important than anyone - even Morpheus - has guessed. But she's grown so hard over the years; she's brittle, and she doesn't even know it."
"What does this have to do with me?" Sorcha asked urgently. To hear this woman talk, Trinity was in danger! "What can I do?"
"You must help her to be softer," the Oracle replied, her voice drifting, almost dreamy. "You must be like John the Baptist, preparing a way in the wilderness."
Sorcha leaned closer to the swaying Oracle. "I don't understand!" she exclaimed. "Tell me - please - what do I have to do?"
The graying woman sighed and lifted her mug up to her mouth for a long swallow. "You must allow yourself to love her, openly and honestly. Then, we'll have a chance."
Sorcha leaned back heavily in the chair and swallowed hard. Her head felt as though it had suddenly become the home to a swarm of bees - myriad thoughts buzzed and bounced inside her skull, each moving too fast for her to hold. "A chance at what?" she managed to choke out.
"At freedom."
Trinity sat alone in the Core, watching the code of the Matrix cascade down the monitors. She loved the late-night shift, craved the solitude and the dimness, and the quiet. Someone else was still awake tonight, though - she could hear the hollow footsteps coming closer. Not Morpheus - his were louder, less delicate, than these. When Switch appeared at the mouth of one of the corridors, she was not surprised.
"You're up late," she said, by way of greeting.
"I've been thinking about Sorcha," Switch replied quietly. The lack of her trademark sarcasm stopped Trinity from looking back to the screens.
"And?"
Switch rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "Is that all you have to say? Can you even begin to imagine how you would feel right now if you were her? How many questions you'd have? Did you not see her in the mess tonight? She looked haunted, Trinity. I don't know what the Oracle told her, but whatever it was, it spooked her good." Switch paused for a breath and regarded Trinity shrewdly. "In fact, I'd say she looked just like you did, after you first went to see her. Shell-shocked. Scared out of your barely-unplugged wits."
"Going to see the Oracle is always like that," Trinity fired back. "Her news always hits hard, and right where it counts. What in hell am I supposed to do about it?"
"You really don't have a fucking clue, do you?" Switch was glaring at her now, and Trinity was surprised by the vehemence in her voice. "That kid idolizes you. She's infatuated with you, and what's more, I wouldn't be surprised if she honestly loves you. Why, I have no idea, since you barely even give her the time of day. But I think she does." Switch was pacing now, back and forth across the echoing floor of the Core. "Would it kill you to be even just a little bit nurturing? Would it kill you step out of the role of second-in-command, of trainer, just once and a while? Sorcha lives for a smile from you. Would it kill you to give her one?"
"She's training to be a soldier, Switch," Trinity said tiredly, finally turning her eyes back to the monitors. "It's a tough life and she has to get used to it. If I coddle her, I'm not doing my job."
"I'm not talking about coddling and you know it," Switch hissed from across the room. "If you want to make that excuse to yourself, then fine - go ahead and make it. All I know is that she keeps reaching out, and you keep pushing her away."
Silence, except for the whirring clicks and occasional beeps of the computers.
"I know you're afraid of closeness," Switch said quietly, finally letting herself perch on the edge of a chair. "I know you've seen one too many friends die. We all have. But get past it somehow. Get past it and go to her - at the very least, just hold her while she has a good cry."
Trinity clenched her jaw so hard that it began to ache almost immediately. To comfort Sorcha… to give healing while gaining energy from her freshness, her awe and wonder and unquenchable optimism… God, it was so appealing. Too appealing. Too distracting. Too…
"I can't," she whispered, the words echoing off pipes and walls and computer screens.
"That's shit," Switch whispered back. "You won't."
Chapter 3 >