Chapter Text
Coming in from the Cold, Part One
With some trepidation, I entered the Machine building in MegaCity’s Tabor Park section. Agent Gray’s tone had been neutral, but my many years of observation of human and program -- both system and exile -- had made me an excellent reader of hidden intent. I could tell that Gray wasn’t calling me in for a simple courier assignment. The mission controller for the Machines’ human operatives hadn’t told me why I was being summoned, just that I was needed.
I passed by my former colleagues, getting more than a few curious glances. Was there something wrong with my appearance? For the most part, they generally didn’t look twice at the human operatives who entered their private domain. It was only right after the Truce had gone into effect, when I was still myself, that they’d ever seemed surprised to see humans in their midst. But that was years ago, and no-one here knew who or what I really was, apart from Gray. To the other agents, I was nothing more than a typical human operative, a redpill who understood that the system granted stability and safety to the vast majority of humanity – they saw me as someone who would protect that stability, and in turn protect 99% of the human race.
“Ms.. Young?” one of them said, pausing a fraction of a second too long for it to be comfortable. “Agent Gray will see you now.”
“Thank you,” I replied, feeling somewhat self conscious at the scrutiny as I stepped through the door into Gray’s office.
Gray had been facing the window, looking out over Tabor plaza, but at my entrance he turned towards me. In his hands was a file that was nearly an inch thick. Oh no. Was this about some infraction I’d committed, something that had finally pushed me over the edge? The overwriting process that had placed me - my consciousness, my code - into the Zionite called Grail had been several years ago; and as ‘Engrailed’, I'd been sent into the Cypherite organization to keep tabs on them for the Machines. Since becoming a redpill I’d performed my duties efficiently. But lately, the Cypherites had been working more in tandem with Machine goals, and my reports on their negative activities had become less frequent. I’d had more time to experience what the simulation and the real world had to offer, and my mind had been free to expand. And expand it had. In that time I’d befriended humans and exiles, taunted the Smith virus into a blind rage, and used stolen codes to access the last of my host body’s memories. I’d felt myself becoming something I hadn’t been before, and even though it was new and strange, I hadn’t been fighting it. I’d embraced it.
My former colleague Mr. Barnsley had said it was only a matter of time before I crossed the line to something the Machines would no longer accept. I would be deleted, or killed, or exiled when I was no longer useful, or when my original coding had been too corrupted by my human body. I’d told Tranque, the Merovingian operative who’d helped me see Grail’s last memories, that I didn’t know what I was anymore. That may have been true, but it didn’t change what I was feeling right now.
I didn’t want to die.
“Ms. Young.”
“Agent Gray,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. I remembered how he’d once been crippled by the Smith virus, when the former agent had been a threat to both the simulation and our own civilization, and how Gray had wanted to return to the Source after he was freed from Smith’s influence. Instead, the Machines had made him the mission controller of their redpill operatives, once the truce with Zion went into effect. And just as I’d adjusted to my new situation, Gray had adjusted to his. We were both sentient programs, after all. Now he would fight a return to the Source as fiercely as I would.
“Ms. Young, your service to us has been invaluable, even more so in the past few years,” Gray said. “But there is something now that requires our attention, something for which I believe your skills would be well suited.” He passed me the dossier.
“Nine9,” I read from the first line of the file. “What is Nine9?”
“Possibly the greatest threat to the simulation since the Truce was broken.”
I paged through the documents, frowning at what I saw. “What do you want me to do?”
“Infiltrate them. Find out everything you can, and report back to us. There are a number of Machinist operatives investigating the group as well, but as you well know, they are only human.”
I read more of the file, feeling guilty but relieved at the same time. Here I’d been worried about saving my own skin rather than the safety of the simulation. How.. human of me.
“This supersedes all prior orders and assignments, Ms. Young. This is of the utmost importance, and takes precedence over your work within the Cypherite organization, even over the need to continue concealing your true identity. Not that you haven’t already shared it with several others, most of whom are exiles,” he said pointedly, ignoring my sharp intake of breath at the acknowledgement that yes, the Machines knew full well what I’d been doing in my off-hours. “You must understand the magnitude of this operation. Use any and all means at your disposal, and be watchful of humans who appear to be one thing but may be another. But there are some you can trust, Taylor. Look for them.”
Hearing my actual name was a subtle shock, an indication of the gravity of the situation, and I bowed my head slightly to Gray. I hadn’t been called Taylor by a Machine program since I’d been one of them.
I swallowed hard and made my way out.