Anniversary Competition - Write A Matrix Story

Do they post their stories here or submit them to you?

The Kid Next Door by Vesuveus of Recursion

            The playground is my favorite place to play. Sometimes I would swing on the swings, but I really like to play games with the other kids there.

            None of these kids go to my school. I don't even think they are from around here. But they are always nice to me and let me join in the games.

            So right after school I ask mom if I can go out and play. Sometimes she comes outside and talks to the babysitter and watches me play with the other kids.

            My favorite game to play is 4-square. The other kids taught me how to play. One time I made it all the way to the 4^th square! I was really happy, but I kind of think the other kids let me win. Some of them are really good at playground games. I wonder where they learned these games, sometimes.

            This one boy is really good at playing 4-square. He is kind of weird, though. He talks funny and wears a dress and is bald. Once I asked him why he doesn't just grow his hair but I didn't understand his answer.

            The babysitter is a nice lady. She sometimes gives me candy when I am good. She always smiles at us kids and sometimes she plays with us even though she doesn't actually play the games. She just talks to us while we play and helps us do better.

            Her friend seems like a nice man, too. My mom says he is the babysitter's caretaker and that he takes care of her because she is old. He doesn't smile at us like she does, but sometimes he holds the other kids' hands and walks them to the market and back. He wears glasses even when it is not sunny out like at night and when it is cloudy. It is cloudy a lot when we play, except for Sundays. The babysitter has us stop and watch the sun set and tells us that the sunset is very special. Sometimes she tells us stories about superheroes. The sun sets because of them!

            After we play games the babysitter brings all the kids inside for chores. I asked if I could help a few times, but she said that the other kids have special jobs. When they leave my mom and I just go next door to our apartment and I do my homework or play video games.

            One day I was playing 4-square but they weren't letting me win. The babysitter wasn't watching us but her caretaker was.

            The babysitter came outside just as I lost my spot in the first square. She called me over and asked me to do her a favor. She said there was a broken vase in her kitchen and asked me if I could clean it up. She said she just finished baking fresh cookies and that I could have a batch if I cleaned it up for her.

            She walked me to the elevator and we went up to her apartment. The elevator looked very old and kind of smelled. We went into her apartment and the bald boy was sitting on the floor playing with spoons. He was wearing a dress again today. I waved to him as we went into the kitchen.

            The babysitter opened the cabinet under the sink and pointed to the dust pan and broom. I picked them up and started brushing the broken vase into the pan. She told me I could bring the flowers to my mother and that she would love them because she hasn't gotten flowers in a really long time.

            I was very careful not to leave any little pieces of the broken vase on the floor. I threw away all the pieces and put the dust-pan and broom back where I got them.

            The babysitter crushed out her cigarette and offered me a bag full of her cookies. They smelled really good so I opened up the bag and picked out the biggest one I could see. It was really good and I ate it really fast. I think I dropped a lot of crumbs on the floor. The babysitter just smiled at me. I think she was proud of how good her cookies were. She told me that in a little while I should go back and play 4-square again.

            I hurried downstairs and across the playground to my apartment. I showed the flowers to my mom and she loved them. I ate another cookie and went back to the playground to play some more 4-square.

            When it was my turn I really wanted to make it to the fourth square again. A girl served the ball to the boy in the third square. He hit the ball really hard and tried to get me out but I hit it back to him even harder and got him out! I took my spot in the second square and got ready for the serve.

            She served it to the girl in the third square and the ball came at me really fast again. I was really surprised when I returned it. The girl in the third square reached but couldn't get it. That's two in a row! I went to the third square. Are they letting me win again?

            The girl in the fourth square served it again, but this time to the boy in the second square. I think they were setting up a hard shot to get me out. He passed it back to her. Then she passed it back to him again. He and she passed it back and forth a lot of times. They were trying to get me to not expect it, but I stayed ready.

            He passed it back to her one more time and I knew this was it; she was going to spike it to me. The ball bounced in her square and she stepped back and turned to my direction. I could see it all happen so slowly. I knew she was going to spike it hard so I stepped back. I knew she was going to aim for the corner like she got me out a hundred times before. My right hand was ready. I stayed in the middle of my square with each side in one step's reach. She wound up and time seemed to slow even more. My collar was so hot and I was sweating. The ball was rising to her waste level. I felt a drop of sweat roll off my chin. I was ready for any shot she could do.

            She swung her arm and the sound of the rubber playground ball echoed loud and slowly in my ears. She was hitting to my right. I pushed off my left foot and stepped big. The cold sweat from my chin dropped onto my arm as I leapt to my right reaching for the ball. It was moving so slowly in my direction and I was already in position for a hard return. The ball bounced just inside the corner of my square. I stepped forward with my left foot and leaned into it. There was no way she was going to be able to stop this shot. The ball rose up and my right hand met the ball with all my weight behind it.

            The echo of rubber was so real. A sting began to spread in my right hand. The sound hit my ears with such force that I thought I could see the sound waves ripple through the air.

            The girl in the fourth square stepped back to try and get in position for a return. The ball bounced just inside the line and whipped right past her hip. Time sped up faster than normal as I realized I just won the position in square four!

            I was so happy that I jumped up into the air and threw my hands up, punching the sky. I didn't feel the sting in my hand anymore. All I felt was the joy of winning and knowing that no one let me win.

            I had played this game a hundred times before with the same kids and never won, never really won before. I think the difference this time is that I believed I could.

Editted: exsuscito can post his entry for himself now

I'll submit "Rose Petals in Sai Kung", which I finished up on the 23rd.

http://forums.station.sony.com/mxo/..._id=36300013787

If it doesn't count, then oh well.  The main part of it takes place prior to the end of the Truce, while Seraph was running around messing up the overwrites.

"Hello, my name is Addict..." - A short by 10011 

Before I was awakened, I was a confused teen.  I was in a world that I didn't understand and didn't plan to any time soon.  I guess I could blame it on the Matrix.  I could say that I was beginning to get that special awareness that comes before you get the magical pill from the man in the black trench.  I could say that was why I did the things I did.  But the truth was, I didn't have the slightest idea what the Matrix was and I didn't care.  I was oblivious to the world (with a little help from my friends, of course).  There's plenty of virtual narcotics for an unhappy bluepill with the drive to find it and the cash to back it.

Bliss... it's an imperfect thing. You think you're happy but you're just pretending. The whole time, you're sinking deeper into that hole. It's a hole in yourself. It's a portal into the void. If you go in too far, you never come back. So I guess it was lucky that I was "discovered." Frankly, I think he made a big mistake on that one. He... to be honest, I can't even remember his name. You'd think that the man who frees you from the Matrix would be someone worth remembering, but I can't recall. He's probably dead. It's the same future that's waiting for any of us; a forgotten casualty in a war that will never end. They tell me that there's been half a dozen Zions before this one. I can believe it. This conflict is something that we'll never get past.

I was awakened into a world that had no place for me. I wasn't cut out to be a soldier. I was a drug chaser, not a militant killing machine. I wasn't disciplined. I wasn't cut out to follow orders. If I had thought there was any chance, I probably would have gone back. But instead, I tried. I did what I was told and I fought with the rest. Some died, some lived. I lived. But it was a hollow life. Don't get me wrong, there were people that meant something to me. But they're dead, and they're gone and that's that.

But then there was hope! He died so that we didn't have to. It was a truce. Something that nobody thought possible, least of all me. I know it won't last; it can't at the rate things are going. This war is eternal, one man is not enough to stop it. But I still played by the rules. Because now there were newly awakeneds everywhere. And crowded hoverbarges where one man is as inconspicuous as the next. The only thing that pulled me away from the sweet, comforting embrace of unreality was the vital and immediate need for food. But when you got back from the mess, there was always a space just opening up. And that was how I slipped through the cracks.

I didn't even do anything in particular. I would wander the streets aimlessly. Sometimes hit a club, sometimes go to a movie. I took a cab everywhere. I didn't need to exploit the system to make myself feel big. In here, I had my old life back. Zion had nothing to offer me. A swift memorial when I finally bite the bullet, but little else. Zion is a human machine. It has gears made of people and circuits made of blood and the whole thing runs on sweat and shell casings. The Zion machine will grind itself against the Machine system until there is nothing left. They're two machines, locked together and fully throttled. The way I see it, they'll both rip each other to pieces. That's no kind of life. So I say live and let live.

Spotty record-keeping lets me log some fifty odd hours a week jacked in. There's plenty of other newbies around to keep me camouflaged and under the radar. Plus, there's captains pilling new ones every day. I roam the streets, I do my thing. It's not the places that are important; it's the quality of it all. The air is smoggy and sweet. There's a sun in the sky and a chocolate bar in my pocket. It's a little melted, but to me... it's real. Sometimes I walk past AA meetings. Some day I will walk in and say "Hello, my name is Cole and I'm an addict. Your reality is my drug. And I'm never going sober again."

I cant compete with the time you have Yasamuu1, but ill chuck mine in just so everyone can have a read.

lul wut?

Uh, anyway, that was posted for exsuscito, it's not my entry.

Mine's still in the works. " width="15" height="15" />

Though that is a amazing piece Fen and deserves recognition in its originality and detail im afraid it wouldn't be fair for others if this story was allowed to enter you have had alot longer to write it and prefect it and ofcourse it is much longer.



Though it is a excellent job and i would go get a job being a writer if i were you it would be quite unfair if you were allowed that entry.



I hope you understand.



Do you agree Havocide?

Thanks, I really appreciate that.

And, I'll let that be Havocide's call, I guess.  There wasn't anything in the original post about when the story was written, just when you needed to submit it.  I'd understand if he refused it, though.

Heh, just wanted to get it out there for more to read it, honestly. 

And, I'll let that be Havocide's call, I guess.  There wasn't anything in the original post about when the story was written, just when you needed to submit it.  I'd understand if he refused it, though.

Heh, just wanted to get it out there for more to read it, honestly.  " width="15" height="15" />

I'll second what Fen said. It just so happens that mine and Vesuveus' stories are also previous works. Not sure about exsusito's. It just said to submit a story, doesn't seem to matter how much time you spent writing it.

I wrote mine in an hour if it makes you feel any better.

Well, exsuscito did his story pretty recently (within the two weeks, I believe).

Speaking from my own POV, I wouldn't really care if something I wrote was beaten by the better story.

... Except that no one wants to read 100 pages. Especially not contest judges.

One should never write any longer than one can hold their readers' attention for.

That said... I think I'll work on a new piece and enter it. It's been too *CENSORED* long since I wrote anything self-contained.

- Void

Void's Story

Mm.

The End.

 Bare in mind a long story might not give you an advantage over a shorter story, it is more quality over quantity.

Folie à Deux

Thank you, Ink.  It wasn't letting me link for some bizarre reason.

The rain thrashed Andrews window with an annoying consistency; a constant wind driving it. Another early morning. Another annoying consistency; dreams about a New Years Eve TV program. The first one of this year; the first of 1999. That and awakening to that site of his clock reading 06:00. ‘That's almost a whole month now', he thought to himself. It was Tuesday morning, when the night met day. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He lay with a grudging feeling of purpose as it slowly dawned on him, "...double Math, *CENSORED* it". He rolled over and buried his head in his pillow for a few moments as if he was strenuously searching for some kind of escape back to dream land.

---

"So you see, by dividing the result of Y we get the definition of X. Thus, acquiring the final term..." Mr Staunton's voice echoed and faded into the depths of Andrews mind, forgotten. He wondered if Mr Staunton actually believed the class was taking anything in. He certainly wasn't. "In one ear and out the other", he recalled just a shard of the scattered lectures his mother gave him. He had so many lectures they resembled something of a shattered sheet of glass. The pieces were scattered across his memory, many too small to see. "Oh well, 5 minutes and we're out of here", he thought. He had a free hour next before lunch. "Time to get some confirmation on what's happening on New Years Eve", he thought. He didn't feel like being one of those stuck in doors playing video games as the turn of the year came, he frowned a little, some underage drinking and some loud music ought to do it.

He felt a nudge from Rosie, the girl sitting next to him. He glanced over with a look of puzzlement as she nodded her head in the general direction of the teacher. He looked towards Mr Staunton. His eyes glared inquisitively at Andrew. "Well, did you understand all that, Andrew?" His enquiry had a futile tone to it. "Uh...Yeah, I did. Thanks", Andrew hesitated slightly, knowing full well that he did not understand. "Oh you did? Ok, if you wouldn't mind explaining for those in the class that didn't, how did we solve the equation?" by Mr Staunton's tone, it was obvious he knew Andrew couldn't answer the question. "Well, you s--", Andrew was interrupted mid sentence. His saviour had pulled through again; the bell to signal the end of class.

As he vacated the class Andrew started some idle banter with a good friend, Alex, about the baseball game last night. No sooner had they begun; Mr Staunton pulled Andrew aside briskly, "You're barely passing this class as it is, Andrew. I suggest you take things seriously, you‘re more than capable of passing this if you put your mind to it." Andrew's lack of respect towards authority in general was a redeeming flaw, one that he had a real problem accepting, let alone fixing. "Sir, when you can tell me what need I have for this useless theorem and this dull subject, then I'll start to take it seriously", Andrew was just itching to get away and catch up with everyone in the social area. Unfortunately, another thing he hadn't learned was that talking back did not help his cause. "How many times have I sent you to the head of the department?" Mr Staunton wasn't going to let him go without a good grilling. "More times than I care to remember", Andrew kept up his vain defiance, which only lead to more trouble. "Well, I think it's time for another one to be scheduled. Now, please, get out of here before you waste any more of my time", Mr Staunton had the last word. ‘Well, at least I'm out of here now', he thought.

---

Club Masumane was heaving, as you would expect on New Years Eve. The buzz of constant conversation was only eclipsed by the emphatic music. Andrew, after surveying his surroundings, noticed a group of people with a particularly strange dress sense in the club. They appeared out of place in the current surroundings, "Who the hell wears shades, not only at night, but also in a poorly lit building?" He said aloud. Alex laughed. Andrew glanced at the big screen; which had been erected especially. "The New Years TV celebration looks slightly similar to last years", giving it little thought.

The countdown to the New Year ran down and a loud cheer raised the roof of the club. Andrew glanced at the screen again, almost like he was entranced by it. He looked away in the direction of a banner, 'Happy New Millennium!" it read. He was attracted back to the screen as if it was some kind of giant magnetic mass. The screen flickered slightly and then, a feeling of familiarity. "Major deja-vu moment", he shouted at Alex, trying to drown out the abrasive music. Andrew continued, "Happy New Millennium!" Alex stopped and gave Andrew a look of puzzlement, as everything else in the room seemed to stop. "New Millennium? What're you talking about, it's just turned 1999! You‘ve had too much to drink." Andrew glanced towards the banners. To his absolute amazement, they read Happy New Year: 1999! He swivelled his head towards the TV; the footage being played was the same celebrations of 1999 that he had dreamt about, the same program as last year. He was sure of it. Nobody else seemed to notice or care. "Do they even realise?", Andrew began to lose control. He stumbled back, frantically looking around the club. His breath quickened; the music raged on. Alex looked confused; Andrew frightened. Andrews frantic actions seemed to grab the attention of the strangely dressed group he noticed earlier that night.

Andrew ran out of the club, disorientated. He could feel the glaring eyes of others outside, burning a hole in the back of his head. He could only focus on the ground as he staggered along. "What the hell is going on? I didn't have that much to drink", he questioned. "Why is everyone saying it's 1999? What is that same TV program doing on the screen?".

---

"A popular phrase in Zion, around the time of my awakening", Yasamuu stared out of the cockpit window. He continued sifting through his inner thoughts, "The Matrix cannot tell you who you really are. As detached from Zion as I felt, I was always drawn to that phrase. It described my position perfectly", Yasamuu glanced upwards at the warring skies, a perfect visual reminder of the past which shaped the current world. "Before I became aware, I was disrespectful towards Authority, I was rebellious -- a down right trouble maker. You'd think I was tailor made for Zion; they did when they tracked me down. Yet, as my awareness of humanities collective dream world began to broaden so did my appreciation for a great variety of things". Yasamuu joked to himself, "If I had been told back then that I would be working for an organisation that is effectively a global authority, where efficiency and respect are two of the many vital aspects of the organisation...Well, I'd probably have slapped whoever had told me". He shuddered at the thought of his old self.

"Many would argue it is a subconscious decision. Perhaps when we are awoken, there is a part of us that truly hates what we once were and will do anything to change in what can only be described as our rebirth. Perhaps it is a hatred of the simulation for dictating what we were to become, for restricting what we could become. At any extent, I'm not sure I feel that hatred", Yasamuu shook his head. "No, I would suggest that we can shape our new lives based on the experiences of our previous lives. Based on the knowledge and awareness of our flaws and our desire to take advantage of, and adapt to, this new life". Yasamuu sat down in the Captains chair of his hovercraft, "The Matrix cannot tell us who we really are, no. However, we can. We can tell ourselves who we really are; learning from our pasts and that is how everyone can move forward".

Saddening.

Winners have been announced. Well done to all who entered and congratulations to the winnes.

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