You've been sitting at your monitor for the last 2 days straight. Something is not right. You've been able to understand that for years. But why? Why do you have this feeling in your gut that if you look at something wrong, the whole world will fall apart.
Maybe you need to lay off the weed when you're programming. You're a 19 year old code writer, not Heideggar.
You've heard the faintest whisperings of the hack gods: morpheus, trinity, and most recently neo. You've seen their handiwork scouring the databases of the most complex systems. And now you're trying to follow in their footsteps, find what they found before seemingly disappearing without a trace.
After wiping the bead of sweat from your forehead, getting some of the salt drenched liquid in your squinting eyes, you stare back at the entry page to a site called, "matrix protocol: new york scenario." You are about to hack your way in when...
KNOCK!!! KNOCK!!! KNOCK!!!
Groaning, you minimize your linux window and put on a client operating system to hide your tracks. Windows ME...God, you have to be really desperate to plug that on to your computer.
You walk over to the door where the incessant hammering at your apartment continues. Taking off the six locks, you open the door, revealing three men in black suits and sunglasses.
"Mr. Jeffries?" the head of them asks. "Or should I say, "tiny?"
"How did you..."
"Grab him!" the man shouts. A fist comes out of nowhere connecting with your jaw like a steamroller pushed by a wrecking ball. You fall backwards and hit your floor with a thud.
* * *
You wake up in a bland white room with the three men sitting across from you. Your hands are bound behind you, your mouth taped with something resembling duct tape. Your eyes focus, letting off an aire of calm fury.
"Mr. Jeffries, you represent a dangerously growing segment of this city's population," the head of the men says in a deliberate "narc"-ish way. "Too many of your kind have questions about who and where they are. You just can't be content, can you?"
Dear God, you think, this guys some kind of religious nutball.
"Now, we could just tag you and let you on your merry way. But, due to recent...events..." The man drifts off and the other two look at each other with a kind of suppressed rage. You have no idea what the hell they could be rambling on about.
"Mr. Jeffries. We are faced with few options. We could either exterminate you..." With that, the three men pull out guns the size of christmas hams. Your eyes try not to bug completely out of their sockets. "Or...You can simply be made to no longer represent a threat to or program...
"And since it's soo hard replacing good fuel cells these days, we have decided to keep you alive. But we have to declaw you, take away your fangs, make sure you don't come after us in the future."
You feel your flesh melt off of your body. You try to scream, but you can't. Instead you wake up...
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