Zion has broken the Truce.
Eyes blink. The screen still says the same thing.
Sigh... This will only make things more difficult. Events always shift the focus away from the bluepills. But they are ultimately the victims and casualties of discord.
No further awakenings are to be allowed.
Well that's something.
Fingers rub tired eyelids as a hand rests gently on her shoulder. His soothing voice assures her this changes nothing. Her chair swivels with a faint squeak as she turns to meet his gaze, her eyes searching the deep black of his coded sockets.
He's so sure of things. But he's right. The Truce was their petty squabble. Politics. Always getting in the way. Now Zion can't be easily destroyed. But still it doesn't matter. When they could be destroyed, the Machines wouldn't do it. So what's the difference?
It's easier now. That's all. No more politics.
But the bluepills...
Fingers flick across the keyboard and the screen blinks to fill up with data that shifts about restlessly.
...always that question. Who will watch over them? Who will have the time now?
A small status window pops up in the corner of the display.
Algorithm %S#14
Data Recovery Progress 47%
Projected Success: 62%
*CENSORED*, still not good enough....


Prepare For Battle.....

