Journal entry: Athletics, Angels, Elephants, and Enemies - Vector - 2/6/2006

I hate crowds.

I wouldn't have gone anywhere near this thing, but I guess someone pulled some strings, because it takes some kind of pull to get the Zion Council to call in a senior operative--me--to go give face time at a party. Okay, awards ceremony--some kind of home-made "Olympics" held by the operatives. Combat stuff. Two Zion factions among the winners, and the Council felt we should recognize them. Public relations and all that crap. They tried to be nice about it, saying that I was the only one known from the old days--Neo's time--that they could send, since Niobe's too busy running things.

They didn't mention that all the other old timers are dead. Sometimes I feel like I am, too.

Anyway, they were nice about it, but they didn't give me a choice.

So I went.

Fortunately, Wingless beat me there. Seraph. Up there doing his "Angel" thing. The operatives eat it up, as always. Funny how the highest ambition for many of them is to get their *CENSORED* kicked by that program.

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I've got to admit, though, he pulls it off with style. Good enough that nobody noticed me for a while. Almost a minute, maybe.

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Then it started.

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With Seraph still sucking up most of the popular bandwidth, I figured I'd try playing it cool by the bar. Maybe I could summon up that "I'm a badass who doesn't talk much" aura to protect me.

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It worked. Briefly.

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Then the usual questions start. Not too different from how they always are. Simultaneously, two operatives have "vital information" concerning things of "importance." I put them off. Too much to think about now--to try to screen out. Fortunately, most of them just want to shake hands, get their picture taken with the old warhorse. The relic.

"Ghost nice too meet you again."
"Greeting Ghost."
"I am honored to meet you Mr. Ghost."
"Please Mr. Ghost can I shake your hand one more time."
"Nice to meet you, Ghost."
"Thanks Mr. Ghost."
"Hello Ghost."
"Thank you Ghost."
"Thank you sir."
"Ghost are you gonna answer me?"

A nod and a handshake usually do the trick. They're all so young, so eager. They haven't seen war--not really. Will they ever? I hope not. They, of course, are dying to see it. But that's why wars follow generational cycles.

The dog and pony show continues. I can almost do this stuff in my sleep now. Huh. I guess that's a bit of a joke.

"Indeed, GlueVane."
"Likewise, Synapze. Always a pleasure to meet a firearms expert."
"Again? Huh. Be sure you get a good picture this time."

Seraph is nearby, not exactly helping disperse the crowd. I hear him agreeing to duel some operative after the song and dance. My ears perk up a bit. That might actually be worth seeing.

Finally, the event starts getting underway. One of our Zion factions forms up near the platform. The Furious Angels. They look so bright and pretty, standing in a row. So proud. They feel invulnerable. I might break against the wall of them. They're all looking at me, waiting expectantly for some recognition. I fish around for something appropriate to say.

"Your example shows what can be achieved by men in a world of machines."

I wonder how many ways that's going to be taken. Lots, hopefully. Maybe somebody will even think about it for a second. The other Zion faction, Morpheus' Legacy, is nearby as well. Better say something for them, too.

"Congratulations, operatives. Morpheus' Legacy lives on, indeed."

How many of them knew Morpheus? He was a hard guy to talk to.

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I find a pocket of Zion operatives. A little space from the crowd. Able to listen to the rest of the room again, I hear the organizer, ManatikLuniak, trying to direct traffic. Winners up on the platform. Meanwhile, somebody wants to duel me. Somebody is surprised that I'm not retired. And the usual comment about my hair. One kid wants to know about the General.

"Not now, liph. There's a presentation going on."

Manatik wants me to hand out two of the awards. I feel like a stuffed moose put up for show.

"Appearances are just fleeting... But memories last longer. Very well."

Madbent accepts the prize from me on behalf of Morpheus' Legacy. Torlan takes it for a Machine faction, Viral Humanity. Interesting--they used to call themselves Viral Vendetta. I'm not sure what to say to him; I still feel uncomfortable around those who ally with the Machines, even though I know their reasons. Most of these kids don't remember the bad old days. I'd better say something, though.

"I suppose Humanity is an improvement over Vendetta, at any rate. Congratulations on winning in fair fight."

**bleep** it, I sound like an *CENSORED*. So hard to think with this crowd, this noise. Hard to breath, even though I know it's all fake anyway. But it seemed to be enough. Claps all around for the winners. Maybe I can get out of here soon.

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Then I hear it.

"so Ghost what are your plans for trinity ???"

**bleep**. It's like a knife, right through me. What right does he have? What **bleep** right? I feel dizzy. It's hard to focus. I just want to fill whoever it was with lead. It would be so easy... But no. He doesn't know what he's saying--he can't. He doesn't know. It's not his fault.

"One cannot plan for the dead."

Later I realize he wasn't even asking about her, just about something named after her. He never knew her. They can't know what it means to those who remember. They-- I need fade into the background. Get back outside. As if on cue, Seraph decides to hold his duel with Madbent outdoors. I grab at the Angel's voice like a dying man. He's heading out. I open the doors for him. It just felt like someone should--what is it about him?

People swarm around us again. I get out of the way as fast as I can. I want to see this fight.

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The contestants square off. Seraph is as unflappable as always. Smooth, slow, precise movements. Programmed.

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The other guy doesn't stand a chance. They all know it, too. They're there for the same reason I am: to see just how Wingless takes him down. In all the excitement, nobody's watching me. I take the opportunity to indulge in a little creativity. Still images of motion have always fascinated me. I'm an amateur, but...somehow it pleases me to make the attempt.

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The kid actually lasted over two minutes. Seraph wasn't going that easy on him, either. I could have sworn I saw even Seraph looking mildly surprised as the kid took all those hits without dropping. He deserves some kind of accolade for the pounding he took. Seraph doesn't let him down.

"Madbent, your ability to withstand punishment is something I have never seen before. You honor me with this fight."

The redpills outside the club want me to duel Seraph next. No thanks. They'll think I'm a wimp, but I didn't come here to get in a fight just for show. Zion doesn't pay me enough for that.

"I have nothing to prove against Seraph. He is a superior weapon."

Out of easy sources of entertainment, the inevitable happens: they start blasting each other for the hell of it. It's like puppies. The hacks wash over me. Guns come out. They seem to be occupied. No time like the present to hit the road. I have a little time left. I'd better go see what that first operative wants. Sounds like he's liable to pop.

Seriously, though, this guy worries me. Claims to be my biggest fan--and probably is. He's watched vids of my work at the end of the war, researched William James because I quoted him a few times... I don't know what to do with this kind of adulation. I'm no hero--what happens when he finds that out? What if he hurts himself, or other people, because of something I say? **bleep** it, I don't want this kind of pressure. But maybe I'm worrying over nothing. He's probably a perfectly stable guy.

Or maybe not. I find him in the Historic District, crouching down, stealthed in the middle of the street.

"Crouched in the middle of the street, operative? An interesting strategy."
"noone likes to run in streets."

Oh...kay. I've got to get him out of here; and I need somewhere I can collect myself after the crowd at the club. I look around, and see what looks like the perfect spot, just at hand.

"Shall we go visit the park?"
"yes"

There's a monument there, looming up in this little strip of grass smack in the busy part of the Historic District. Its symmetry, simplicity fascinate me.

"A curious remnant of a nature that no longer exists."
"the pyramid...yes"
"Hm. The world on the back of four elephants."

He's still telling me about the plot he's unearthed. A high-profile Merovingian, a walking bomb. Sounds farfetched. He keeps stopping to talk. I just want to get to the monument. The shade on its near side calls to me. I keep walking toward it. The operative is looking at it now, too.

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I sit down, leaning back against its base. I can feel the chill of its concrete surface through my coat. The heat, the fatigue, flow out of me. Back into the Matrix.

"yes, on 4 different sides too... but they hold it up... together..."
"But what are they holding up? A big fake pyramid."
"not entirely... there's another on top... holding its own pyramid...with a patchwork of other pyramids to make it up."
"And what would that represent?"
"everyone can see it differently, but I see it as the dream...the one that was shared by Morpheus, Persephone, about neo."

I can't keep his mind off it. Morpheus, Neo... Trinity. Nobody's forgotten. He warms back up to the subject of the plot he thinks he's found. He doesn't trust the Merv representative. Then on to the General, and Niobe. I'm a little tired of the lack of faith in her. They don't see her focus, her drive, her leadership.

"Mistrust is not fear. though."
"alot of zionists have fears ghost...about how Niobe might be taking us down a wrong path. I trust her. But I'm worried that she didn't do this with the right intentions"
"You think she's doing it for revenge."
"possibly. I personally haven't seen a zion council order for this war. and have heard her speak of revenge in my company"
"She does have her tempers. But on the other hand, her anger can take her to a place where she is suddenly very cool and collected. It is interesting to watch. As if the heat of her anger burns away lesser considerations, leaving cold logic as the only survivor."

That gets him off Niobe, back onto his plots. I tell him that we'll check into them. Means another long day for me in the intel db tomorrow. What else is new. At least the operative seems satisfied.

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More show up--inevitable that they find me, I suppose--with their own concerns, agendas, needs. One of them takes the old "Morpheus isn't dead" line.

"Ghost before my connections interupts... It is of great importance that I meet with you and Niobe... I have some important things to discuss with you both..."
"Is there anything half of us can do?"
"I can tell you this... Morpheus is not dead"
"That's somewhat old news."
"Old news? I dont remember his telling us he had told you or Niobe of what he was doing..."
"Many insisted from the beginning that the announcement of his death was premature."
"He met with me prior to his disappearance"
"Him talking about...fading away."
"yes... He told us to be prepared... For one day he would return"
"Are you prepared?"
"Always"
"Then it seems you have nothing to worry about."

Worries. They all bring them to me, seeking some kind of cure. But I'm no savior. I've got worries too. Like that other operative, still calling me with his own urgent business. And I'm almost out of time.

"I've got to leave."
"Thank you for listening"
"Thank you for being prepared."
"ok. thanks for meeting with me Ghost. I will ponder what we spoke of about the elaphants. and meditate on it."
"Elephants are ponderous creatures."

Didn't go too badly. But the next one, I'm less sure of; he works for the Frenchman. I'm not worried about a physical trap... But who knows what deceptions he'll attempt. And what will people say if they hear I met with the enemy, alone? No, no point in worrying about that--nothing I can do about it. Just keep going, take them as they come.

Sobra Shores. The church. Cute. He's eager, almost twitching. Jumpy. He's got documents, lots. He draws it out. An actor.

"As you will see in this document... Im sure you remember... this next piece of evidence..."

Sounds like a **bleep** lawyer. The General, where he came from, what he wants. All old news; I've seen copies of these before, brought in by our own people. One of them he's misread. I have him read it over again. Not sure why I'm helping. But maybe if we all see the same things, we'll find we don't have so much to fight over.

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He finally produces something I hadn't seen before: a 911 transcript, where it sounds like a bluepill had been threatened by the Assassin, then by the red-eyed Agents. The report draws connections between them and the General, even the Merovingian. Conspiracy theories--everyone loves 'em. Fact, rumor, and wild speculation all mixed into an irresistible concoction. It's almost too bad that there's nothing behind at least half of this.

"Well, you were right. Your motivation here is obvious. Perhaps even more obvious than the General's."
"I hope that is a good thing."
"Certainly. Hidden motivations are the dangerous ones."
"There was another document, but it seems that is has gone.... missing. For the moment, I hope this has atleast opened your eyes to General's ideas."
"It's been more illuminating of your own. Much of this we already knew. And it seems that while everyone claims to be able to see the General's motivations, very few see Niobe's, even when she spells them out."

He seems to have played all his cards. I have a few minutes left. I use them to find out what else is in his head.

"So what do you intend to do? Stay with the Frenchman?"
"Always."
"Why?"
"I tend to enjoy the life of the Matrix, and Lock would have a fit if he saw me enjoying my time here, eating and dining. I would never return to it as a bluepill, though."
"You're very considerate of Lock's peace of mind."
"Well, I'd rather not have someone like him, nagging me constantly about how much I go out to eat. Plus, working for the Merovingian for over a year has been fun, to say the least."
"I should wish you a fat retirement, then."
"Thank you."
"I'd better get going. If someone saw the two of us together in a church, who knows what stories would get out."
"And especially this one...."
"Good luck with your Frenchman."
"Thank you, but Causality is all I need."

So he toes the Merovingian's line pretty well after all. Just wanted a little drama. Stirring the pot. Get the General off his case. Good to know they're worried about him.

Jacked out immediately. Can't remember the last time I felt that tired. I'd sat down on the front pew in the church; at the time I told myself it was to calm the operative down, but I realize now that I was almost dead on my feet. Who knew being a figurehead was so draining. Being on show, keeping up a solid front, double-checking everything you say before you say it, keeping track of dozens of people all talking at you at once... This isn't what I signed up for. Not that I had much choice.

No, that's not true. It's just that I'd already made my choice, like we all had. And now I'm living out the consequences, one day at a time. Maybe the day will even come in which I'm not reminded of her wherever I go.

But I don't want that to happen for a while yet.

Message Edited by Ghost on 02-09-200607:45 PM

A certain Merovingian operative, name of Tseng, sent us some images he captured at the award ceremony--of me and Seraph, and Seraph's duel afterwards. Come to think of it, I saw Tseng at the ceremony, skulking around the stairway--he even fired a couple appropriately Merovingian insults at me, making fun of my clothes--but it didn't occur to me at the time that he was just maneuvering into position for some close-ups. I'm not entirely sure why a Merv would send us images like this...unless he just wants everyone to have the same frame of reference. Like the operative in the church, giving me all those documents. I'm starting to get the idea that the Merv operatives see us Zionites as being in need of getting our facts straight.

Whatever the reason, I'm glad he sent them. It isn't often that you get a good outside perspective like this. His work puts my amateur efforts to shame. I'll never be this good. But it's something to shoot for.

They're big. Click to enlarge.

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Message Edited by Ghost on 02-09-200606:56 PM

/cool

As for us knowing Morpheus, you can say we know enough and yes we have met him in person. Morpheus' Legacy has been here since the Hunt for Neo's RSI Frags on the LED Agents. We respect you, Niobe, and all the decisions that you have made. We are not veterans like you, but we do follow your path.

 Meeting with the enemy alone? Isn't there some rule going against that enforced by the Zion council? I mean, isn't security an issue for you cavedwellers? On the topic of the 911 transcript, what was so special about it?
Probably just some bluepill complaining about a new type of drug on the streets like they were months prior.

hey ghost excelent post i know u must get jealus at seraph cause every one wants to get there *CENSORED* kicked by them but if u ever pop into the matrix on vector it would be a great honor to duel against you i hope to meet u some time soon

So Ghost is much deeper than we anticipated.







VH Members can be found in many of the club pics wearing the purple trenches, and fedoras.

(Excellent piece! Inspiration for us all.)

Ghost, my respect for you, Niobe, and Morpheus for that matter, has never faultered.

It truly is an honor to fight beside you.

Thank you for giving us your perspective on these matters.  It is immensly appreciated.

-ShadowSK