| Viewing Single Post From: The Meeting | |
|---|---|
| Cage | Oct 4 2008, 01:25 PM |
 
|
The rain poured down upon the gateway to the graveyard with relentless fury. It had been almost a week since Cage had returned to the main system and since that fateful night the systems weather program had yet to repair. On the previous night he had received a message from an individual, someone keeping their name a secret, requesting a meeting within the graveyard. Most would see this as the perfect trap, an easy way to end the life of one so troublesome to the machines, Cage did not fear this. If the machines wanted to smite him down then let them try, he would fight to the end. Luckily for him subtle, indirect, hints granted he by the spirits of the matrix led him to believe all was well. Poncho covering his suede jacket and accompanying attire, Cage pushed against the eight foot gates and opened them. A blood curdling screech emanated from the rusted joints as the old gates swung open revealing a long, dark pathway. Just less than six hundred yards ahead of him stood the abandoned chapel, a gothic building protected by the evil eyes of six stone golems. Striding forward Cage made his way towards the eerie structure, head held high, hood pulled up to shadow his face. All around him the empty graves of those long dead raised a sense of anger in his heart. To those without knowledge of the truth, these graves were filled with the bodies of their beloved deceased, but to those who knew they were hollow graves. A simple illusion created to match the rest of the matrix when in reality when an individual died they were ditched in a sewer. Cage felt his fist clench at the thought of such horrid deeds. Not even in the new age had the machines allowed humans to give the deceased the respect they deserved. Now with the war taking a new turn that day was even further away. After ten minutes trudging along the muddy, puddle filled pathway leading to the chapel, Cage arrived on its steps. Taking shelter underneath the over hang, he pulled pack his hood and removed a set of smokes from his inside pocket. Despite tobacco or any drugs for that matter, having no effect on him Cage felt a strange calm when smoking and so continued to do so. Plus buying smokes was now free considering he could get his friends to just hack him a pack; he would still buy a twenty occasionally. The weather saw no signs of changing; in fact it was perfectly consistent, un-naturally consistent. Soon a program somewhere would realise that the weather program was still causing problems and would summon another program to deal with it. It always made Cage laugh when he considered how complicated the machines had made their own system for controlling humans. Building programs to monitor programs that monitored programs and then creating others when those programs went rogue. A degree of ignorance was apparent on their part considering the amount of exiled programs that went unchecked. Not even the agents could do a successful job of keeping them all under control, the machines most prized programs. As such Cage tended to help them on that front by dealing with such programs, it wasn’t however to assist the machines but rather make passage through the matrix easier for his comrades of the real. It was these such actions that had brought Cage to this very spot, or so he believed. |
Offline
 |
Quote | |
| The Meeting · The Graveyard | |
10:59 PM Dec 7
