| Sensations |
[Aug. 15th, 2005|02:24 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  curious | ] |
Trinity noted that her set of clothes had changed for the day.
She had glanced into the closet on the second day. Empty, save for a sweater and a set of pants that looked very much like the clothing she wore in Zion. She was apprehensive towards this—it worked too much like the console, which, while not the Matrix, wasn’t real. She would have believed that Milliways was another program hadn’t she acknowledged by sense that she wasn’t. She knew what being inside of a program felt like. To her knowledge, no program in and out of the Matrix ever showed the plugs on her body, either.
So it was that Trinity accepted her reality. She was outside the Matrix, outside the console, inside a bar. At the end of the universe. There was no other way to explain how her plugs were still there, how she had encountered people from the days where A.I. existed, in a large capacity, who did not know what an A.I. was. How people faced threats that did not come from man’s mechanical creation.
How the bar knew what she ate and what she wore.
She couldn’t allow herself to believe that the machines had somehow infiltrated Zion, discovered the exact culture of the city and duplicated them in a program designed to be a bar for one person’s edification or imprisonment. She had also been quite awake when she opened the door to her bunker.
The matter of whether she was in a program soon subsided to her growing curiosity about the patrons in the bar, especially those who seemed to be in a variation of her world’s past. The Resistance had dedicated part of their mission to the retrieval of historical artifacts, to learn how things were before the war. Because the surface had been so utterly destroyed, because the machines had warped and hidden truths in the Matrix, reconstructing history had been difficult. She had realized, the last time she was in the bar, that she had a great resource here.
If only she had a notebook…!
One night passed, and a morning arrived. Trinity rose from her bed and opened the closet, hoping that the bar had provided her with a new set of clothes.
She was surprised to find that the Bar had provided her with something she could have only worn inside the Matrix.
A t-shirt and jeans. With sneakers.
Trinity had taken to wearing more…eye-catching clothing in the Matrix. They all had, to make a statement. The Matrix could not define who they were, could not dictate the clothes they wore and could not force them to blend in to the code. But if Trinity were being honest, she would admit—the sweaters and pants of the ship and the tight polyvinyl chloride of the Matrix were, at times, no substitute for what she thought were sweatpants and a tank top in the Matrix. Standard hacking gear, she noted. Nobody cared how you looked when you were cracking into their system.
Her hand lingers on the jeans for a moment as she debates whether to change into them. She closes her eyes. Maybe it was too soon for her to accept the clothing she had thought was real. She had grown accustomed to, and indeed proudly wore the clothes provided to her at Zion. It was too jarring to go back…there. She needed more time.
But her curiosity was getting the better of her, and she knew, sooner or later, she would try on those jeans. Just to know what they felt like. What they really felt like.
What she needed right now, though, more than a shirt and a pair of pants, was a notebook. Or a computer. |
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