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Carved wooden banisters separated the living room from the dining room, throwing
even shadows on a woman smoking a cigarette at the dining room's glass-top
table. Her idea of the Oracle's physical manifestation was so at odds with
the domestic scene before her that Trinity stopped short. Mild shock battled
with her anxiety, necessitating a small battle for composure. The Oracle,
as if sensing her discomfiture, looked up with a patient smile. She did not
speak.
Pausing in the doorway, Trinity idly ran a finger over the banisters. The
wood was cool and smooth, sensations that Trinity's mind catalogued even
as her subconscious dismissed them as manifestations of the Matrix. Nicotine
plumes were drifting up toward the light fixture, and a gnat hurled itself
through the smoke and against the bright fixture. A table at one end of the
room held friendly-looking letters and a knifelike letter opener. Heavy curtains
hid the windows from sight, but Trinity felt somewhat comforted by the potential
escape route. It isn't that I don't trust the Oracle, she reasoned to herself.
It's just that preparation for the unexpected is the wisest course of action
in any unfamiliar setting. Morpheus may place implicit faith in the old woman
sitting at the dining room and her apartment full of calmly prescient assistants,
but Trinity had no reason yet to believe in divine prophecy.
Her statuesque façade betrayed nothing of her inner debate. Her cool
blue eyes remained locked on the Oracle's. If there was a hint of reverence
in Trinity's expression- well, it was only natural for one whose life since
Awakening had been filled with awed tales of the Oracle's uncanny foretelling.
Still, Trinity felt a wave of frustration with herself and the situation.
The older woman wasn't saying a word, just looking at her as if she were
a favorite niece. Her previous doubts about augury twisted the reverence
to annoyance, and to her surprise she burst out, "I don't believe in this.
In you. Any of it."
The Oracle lowered her cigarette slowly. Her manner held no disdain for Trinity's
outburst.
"Your existence isn't dependent upon my belief in you. So don't mind me if
I just go on doing what I do- with or without your belief, child."
Trinity briefly inclined her head. Fighting an involuntary swallow, she grabbed
an empty chair and sat across the table from the Oracle. "That was rude of
me. I'm sorry." She gestured, encompassing the low-key domestic setting.
"But this isn't what I expected, and the lack of pomp doesn't seem to belong
to the stories I've heard told about you."
The Oracle laughed, deep and good-natured. "Trappings and regalia would suit
me even less, honey, and folks have such particular ideas of things that
I could never live up to their expectations. I'd rather surprise you than
disappoint you."
"That's shrewd of you. To disarm is to dominate."
The Oracle laughed more loudly. Trinity blushed at the apparent rebuke. Seeing
her color deepen, the older woman shook her cigarette in a warning manner.
"We don't run a military operation here, child. I didn't bring you into my
home to run tactics past you. Look here- you just sit back and relax, and
we'll have a nice little chat. No talk of war, no combat training, no
whatever-it-is that Morpheus makes you do on his time. Smoke?"
She pushed a pack of cigarettes across the table. Trinity eyed them dubiously
and shook her head.
The Oracle sat back and lit her second smoke, carefully watching the younger
woman. "No? Why not? You smoke, doncha?"
Trinity gave a small smile. "No. No, I don't. I mean, I did," she amended
hastily, "But that was before I unplugged."
The Oracle's eyes glittered. "You're in the Matrix now, hon. All of the taste
and none of the cancer. No harm. Why not indulge, for old times' sake?"
"Because it isn't me that tastes it. It's no longer my addiction. It was
a taste and habit created by the Matrix, no more real than the gnat buzzing
around your kitchen light."
"And does that mean you can't enjoy the pleasure of it now?"
Trinity's hand clenched into a fist and relaxed again. She shook her head
slightly. "4D virtual reality plugged into my body with conduits like venomous
snakes fed me that so-called pleasure, along with every other sensation I
can name right now. Temperature, texture, sight, the dryness of my lips,
the smell of your cigarettes- I reject the constructs of the Matrix. None
of that is mine. "
"What is yours?"
"My anger!" Trinity's fist came down on the table with a bang that surprised
her. The Oracle simply nodded and gestured with her cig that she was to continue.
Trinity spread her hand flat on the table and examined it as she spoke. "The
Matrix is a prison of sense and sensation that in reality deprives us of
our own. It fed me a life it devised for me. It took my choices, my freedom.
What is more galling than that total usurpation of basic rights? I'm one
of the lucky ones," she said intently, her voice quieter now. "I have the
chance to unplug and live my own reality, where every shred of existence
is mine to choose and savor. And it is sweet."
"Except the gruel," the older woman offered sympathetically.
Trinity jerked back in her chair as though she'd been slapped. Wide-eyed,
she stuttered, "How did you...?"
The Oracle beamed, looking very pleased with herself. "That's what you were
thinking, isn't it? The one exception to your 'life is sweet' theory is that
damned gruel you have to eat for every blessed meal."
"Single-cell protein with amino additives," Trinity mumbled automatically.
Her mind was busily working out a justification.
Waving impatiently, the Oracle took a long drag. Her expression was a contrite
apology for interrupting.
Trinity began more slowly this time. "You're defending the Matrix. I understand.
There is, admittedly, more variation on the sensations we Awakened prize
so highly. But when we've won the battle we'll have access to the creation
of these delights. We may never be able to grow tobacco crops again," she
wrinkled her nose at the cigarette smoke wafting in her face. "But the crops
we grow will be infinitely more precious to us out of the Machines' control
than any false sensations we can garner here."
"You don't think small, do you?"
"The rebellion must think on an epic scale."
"You could have just told me you didn't want a cigarette."
"The cigarette is a symbol of the Matrix's instant gratification. That pack
of cigarettes is an effective symbol of the system's insidious hold on every
aspect of our lives. Sense. Emotion. Body. If those are enslaved, can our
souls ever be free?"
Trinity's tirade wound down, and she watched the Oracle for some spark of
affirmation. The prophetess looked grave and severe. Perhaps her rebel propaganda
was too clichéd to be heeded here. Trinity resisted the urge to squirm
in her seat like a child awaiting a report card.
Brown eyes met blue eyes. "Emotion? You're rejecting that as a manipulation
of the Matrix, too?"
Feeling herself on safe ground, Trinity answered confidently. "Absolutely.
Look at the emotions that are so world-specific. Ambition. Greed. Intolerance.
Without the structure of this carefully-regulated world, there's no need
for such destructive tendencies."
The Oracle gave a low whistle, eyebrows raised. "Mighty convenient rejection.
I'll bet you dimes to dollars you'll come across those same qualities before
your time is done, girl, but for the sake of a pleasant argument between
friends let's say you're right. Does that explain why you keep yourself wrapped
up tight?" She smiled kindly at Trinity's expression. "You got yourself some
tough armor there, girl. Don't let much through, not love, not greed. Just
anger and fear."
Her lips pursed in a thin line. Morpheus hadn't led her to a seer; he'd turned
her over to a psychiatrist. "I'm dealing with things in my own way."
"So you reject everything as a lie?"
"Avarice, love, soap operas, disco- as far as I'm concerned, it's all a
construction of the Matrix used to further force humanity into mental
submission."
"You don't believe in love?" The Oracle seemed genuinely concerned.
Trinity shook her head. Her self-possession was restored. In the realm of
Matrix truisms, she felt herself on sure footing.
The Oracle shook her head regretfully. "A shame. You're gong to have a hell
of a time coping when he finally come along and sweeps you off your pretty
little feet."
Stunned was hardly the word; she felt as though she'd just plunged over a
precipice into something icy and unexpected.
"Who?" she blurted out, nearly offended at the proposition that she would
fall in love.
"Oh, sweet child, nearly every path in your future leads toward a certain
man, one who needs your guidance just as much as he'll need your love."
Trinity snorted rudely. "This is a palm-reading session after all."
The Oracle continued as if there had been no interruption. "It isn't easy
for any woman to love the One, and you're going to knocked on your leather-clad
butt by the prospect." She nodded sagely, adding a little wink at Trinity.
"But you'll manage just fine."
All her breath left her in a rush. Trinity sank into her seat with the air
of one who accepts the inevitability of disaster when confronted with impossible
odds. Her face smoothed into its accustomed marble serenity, her taut body
relaxing. Inwardly, though, she struggled to accept emotions she thought
she'd repressed. The offensive idea that she was destined, like some cheap
romance heroine, to love rather than fight- the very idea was anathema to
her. Her devotion to the war against the Machines filled her existence. She
raged at the prospect of sacrificing her battle skills to play Juliet to
some unknown Romeo. She'd gone through hell to get to this point. Was it
useless, after all?
Mingling with her anger was the sharp cut of disappointment. The One, she'd
said...
I am going to fall in love with the One.
I am not the One.
She didn't know if she said the last words aloud, but as she raised her eyes
to the woman across the table, she was answered.
"No, honey. You aren't the One." The words were kind, gentle. But at the
same time they stung.
Trinity wiped futilely at eyes suddenly and unexpectedly wet. She gestured
hopelessly, encompassing the room, then clasped her hands and spoke in an
even, measured tone.
"I knew I couldn't hope to be the One. I didn't sense it in myself enough
to be sure. But Morpheus was so excited to find me that his enthusiasm nearly
convinced me." She looked up, smiling bravely. "And a conceited little part
of me wanted to believe that I could play the part."
To her surprise, the Oracle pushed herself from the table. Her body was strong,
even angry, as she slid a chair next to Trinity and reseated herself. One
dark hand rested on the younger woman's arm.
The Oracle looked intently into Trinity's eyes. "It takes a lot more than
enthusiasm to be the One, Trinity. But maybe it doesn't take more than a
little belief." She nodded in satisfaction, as though this obscure aphorism
divulged untold wisdom. Leaning closer, close enough for Trinity to feel
the woman's breath on her cheek, she murmured, "There are aspects of the
whole in all of us, and one whole can't be judged by a tiny part. You're
not the One, but you aren't chopped liver, either. You have your part in
the grand drama, just as he does. Lesser and greater roles are an aesthetic
judgment I can't make, but I can tell you, he won't get there without you."
Trin was dizzy. The proximity, the pronouncement, the generally unexpected
atmosphere of the day- all were uniting to thoroughly unsettle her treasured
dignity.
"Cigarette?"
Dazedly turning her head, she saw the Oracle smiling sweetly. In her outstretched
hand was the soft pack of cigarettes.
Trinity drew a shaky, deep breath. "Hell, yes," she said, and reached for
the pack.
YE ALMIGHTY DISCLAIMER: I envy the Brothers- Wachowski and Warner- for their ownership of the Matrix characters. I also fear them. So rest assured that I intend no copyright infringement, I am making no money off this, and I was only taking the characters out to play with good intentions.
YE GLORIOUS FEEDBACK: As you wish. Amgreene@students.wisc.edu. Did I do a better Morpheus characterization this time?
YE OLDE AUTHOR'S NOTES: I never intended this story to be so damned long. But I'm basically pleased with it, so it shall stay long. I took a few liberties here, though, that I'd like to address. First, the Oracle spends a lot more time and effort on Trinity here than she did with Neo in the movie. I conjecture that she had more leisure time back when Trin visited. When Neo shows up, the world is already spiraling into the final battle. Plus, did you see how full her waiting room was? She had appointments to get to, and rushed him out. Secondly, I personally believe that the Oracle can appear in whatever setting she judges to be the best for the visitor. She can be a priestess in a temple, or a grandmother at home, or a cashier at McDairy Barn if she wants. But I didn't feel I had the space to address that here. It's probably a moot point, anyway. Just thought you should know.
This story is dedicated to the memory of the banisters between the kitchen and the living room in my childhood home in Missouri. I loved those banisters.
