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THE SUNSET
* 9 *
Beneath the infinite starlit sky, Agent Greene took some comfort in the regular rhythmic rush and rumble of his galloping horses, as he, his two subordinates, and their two young captives rode towards the dim glimmers of light in the distant horizon.
Those faint flickers marked the nearest Agent stronghold nearly 100 miles and 6 hours north of the glitching program degradation... and signified their inevitable destination... what the primitive 10th-century humans referred to as the Castle.
'Mirrorbrook Castle,' he thought to himself.
Agent Greene also took comfort in the fact that he had completed his primary mission -- to isolate and secure the glitch.
After subduing their captives, his two chosen subordinates -- Agent Gray and Agent Graham -- had successfully followed his specific orders to (1) calculate the entire uneven perimeter encircling the glitch at a one-mile radius, (2) communicate the program-change instructions to cloak the perimeter with an impenetrable fog that disoriented the perception and deflected the path of any human trespasser away from the glitch, and (3) relocate all humans detected within the perimeter through program-activated unconsciousness and program-reimaged awakening at an external location.
'Such efficiency,' he noted.
But as Greene led the fast-moving caravan through the windblown darkness, with Gray riding behind the unconscious girl on the leftmost horse, and Graham riding behind the unconscious boy on the rightmost horse, two as-of-yet inexplicable events gnawed at his advanced sentient programming.
'First, how the hell did the boy manipulate the program degradation?'
Before Greene revealed his presence at the fire, the boy clearly took responsibility for 'making the symbols rise' and feeling some connection to the glitch... But did this connection originate with the boy or the glitch?... Did it only manifest itself in the proximity of fire?... Did it pose any immediate danger to the Matrix?... He wanted answers to these questions.
'Second, how did the girl burn his subordinate?'
Upon further examination of their sleeping bodies, the girl possessed an unusual set of markings along the inside of her left forearm... and the boy possessed a similar set of markings across the left-center area of his chest... In fact, these marks were part of a code string found in the program-reimaging libraries of the Matrix... But how did they receive these marks of the Matrix?... How did these marks burn an Agent?... More questions.
The quantity and complexity of these inexplicable oddities and coincidences were overwhelming... There was evidently some connection between the boy and the girl, as well as between these two and the glitch.
'But what the hell was that connection?'
This was yet another question that Greene was ill-equipped to answer as he rode across the desolate Flatlands... in the middle of nowhere... Sooner or later, he would get all of his questions answered at the Castle... all of them.
It was just a matter of time.
Swiftly and steadily, Agent Greene followed the sweeping and streaming curves of the growing Mirrorbrook, the northern lights of the Castle steadfastly guiding his way.
Eventually, at least 10 miles from the glitch, the caravan reached the section of the Mirrorbrook where the eastern edges of the Flatlands met the western edges of the Rollingridge. Even in the starlit darkness, despite his reflective sunglasses, the Agent could discern where stretches of low cliffs had been cut into the Rollingridge during a prehistoric time when the ancient Mirrorbrook had once been a mighty river.
As his emerald eyes lingered over the low-rising rock faces, the Agent thought he heard something... something inconsistent in this 10th-century virtuality... like a motor or vehicle engine.
And then he saw something!
Ahead and to his right, above the edge of the cliff, the Agent caught the overpowering glow of a beam of light... definitely inconsistent in this virtuality... like a flashlight or vehicle headlight.
And then he saw another!
Beside the first one, the Agent spotted the unmistakable glow of a second beam brightening over the edge... and he picked up the mechanical buzz of a second engine projecting over that edge... the distinct sounds of two motorized vehicles approaching.
And finally he saw them!
His eyes wide in absolute amazement, the Agent gazed as the two motocross-style dirt bikes leapt from the edge of the cliff, headlights blazing and engines roaring, and soared, in seeming slow motion, over his head.
And Greene heard one of the bikers scream out.
"YEEEEE-HAAAAAWWWWW!"
As Million and Threads drove their midnight-black motocross bikes off the edge and into the wind, Million could hear her spirited young partner behind her, yell out.
"YEEEEE-HAAAAAWWWWW!"
With that charging-cowboy yell, a signal as good as any other in the middle of nowhere, the leather-clad helmet-masked bikers held on to their right handlebars, reached for their left hip-holsters, pulled out their automatic pistols, and aimed them quickly and carefully at the leading Agent below.
They opened fire! Brat-tat-tat! Brat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Instantly reacting to the crackling flashes of gunfire, yet in seeming slow motion, the targetted Agent sprung sideways off his bullet-slaughtered beast, over the oncoming girl-ridden horse, quarter-spun in the air, and dove headfirst into an elegant forward roll, bouncing back up with his semi-automatic pistol in hand.
"Dammit!" Threads uttered as he witnessed the acrobatic escape, his dirt bike thudding -- Thud! -- on the western side of the Mirrorbrook. Glancing over his left shoulder, he felt his heart skip a beat at the shocking sight of the grounded Agent already back on his feet. "Shit!"
"Go!" the Agent commanded loudly to his hesitant subordinates, directing them by throwing forward his gun-gripping fist.
"Come on!" Million cried to Threads. "The kids!"
The Agent brought his handgun around towards the taillights of the buzzing motocross bikes.
His attention snapping forward, Threads reholstered his pistol with his left hand, opened the throttle with his right, and accelerated after his scarlet-haired partner, their dirt bikes kicking up dust clouds in pursuit of the remaining horses.
Then he heard the Agent fire his weapon! Brack! Brack! Brack!
Smash! His taillight shattered.
Swiftly, Threads lost the Agent amidst the dust, the distance, and the darkness.
But he never heard the Agent swear.
"Fuckin' rebels!"
"Come on, Threads, let's go!" Hitchhiker urged.
"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Unicorn shouted alongside Hitchhiker into the grimy main screens of green encoded rain, as they followed Threads speeding away from the pistol-firing Agent. Finally, the senior operator sighed in relief, "Fuck, that was close."
"Too close."
Then a sudden but expected buzz echoed over their headsets.
"Operator," Unicorn answered, keeping one pale blue eye on the screen depicting the captain's location, and the other eye on the screens tracking the bikers' pursuit. This time, Helios was the caller.
"Unicorn, how're they doing?"
"They missed the lead Agent," the senior operator replied, "but they're going after the other two with the kids right now."
"Good. Keep me posted."
And just as suddenly, Helios hung up.
Beneath the tremendous tepee-inspired tent -- almost thirty feet high and twenty feet wide at its diameter -- Captain Helios reclasped his silver cellphone to his belt, dragged an office chair across the rubberized mat, and sat down beside the fragile stone-ringed fire...
'The entry-and-exit point,' he thought.
As the calm smoke rose through the opening at the peak of the firelit shelter, he surveyed the myriad desks, the desktop instruments, and the stark recliners -- the 'rescue' equipment -- that lined one section of the camouflage-colored canvas walls... His midnight-black motocross bike stood along another section... And several iron-edged wooden trunks filled with additional weapons and explosives sat along yet another section...
'So far, so good.'
Once the teenagers were hooked up to the rescue equipment and the exit fire, he could unplug them from the Matrix in a matter of minutes... and scoop them onboard the 'Nosferatu' just minutes after that...
But before they could even be hooked up, they needed to make an unimaginable choice... Would they choose the real world over a living lie?...
'Would they choose the red pill?'
That the teens were not already killed, suggested that they were MORE than just a couple of useful energy sources for the Machines... That the Agents seemed to be taking them to a fortress, probably an Agent fortress... identified in his geographical analyses as 'Mirrorbrook Castle' almost one-hundred miles north... suggested that the Agents too were curious, perhaps concerned, about the teens and their unique connection to the localized glitch... as Helios had surmised...
And now Million and Threads were chasing the teens down... despite the Agent threat...
From his geographical analyses, Helios also knew that, from their campsite, taking the western path along the Mirrorbrook would be foolish... the roar of their motorbikes would reveal their presence too soon across the featureless Flatlands... But taking the eastern path over the Rollingridge, through the woodlands and around the Agent-generated perimeter fog, would help to conceal their motorized approach...
Million and Threads missed the lead Agent... It would have been a nice bonus to take him down... especially if the closest plugged-in human hosts were located at the Castle...
But rescuing the kids was their mission...
It was his mission.
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