II-13

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Smith wasn't there.

That was a first, but firsts were coming thick and fast upon her these days, and even being stood up by an agent no longer seemed so extraordinary. At least it gave her time to pace back and forth across the weedy, deserted field at the end of the narrow run-down road on the city's outskirts, brooding upon her last argument with Theo. The words, though days past, still burned in her mind.

"Nonsense. Absolute nonsense," she kept muttering to herself through gritted teeth. "How typical."

Preoccupied yet edgy with nerves, she almost missed the low whirr of wheels crunching up the road behind her. When she whipped around the great white SUV was already near, appearing as if out of nowhere, and as she drew her guns the engine suddenly revved, charging straight at her with a roar. Tensing by instinct, Aleph stood her ground, holding out her guns; through the windshield she now caught sight of a pair of identical pale faces with grinning mouths and eyes hidden behind tinted lenses, framed by equally pallid dreadlocks. Her fingers tightened on the triggers, yet at that instant tires screeched, and the vehicle skidded with a grunt of the brake, grinding to a halt a foot away from where she stood. In synchronized motion, both the driver's and the passenger's windows rolled down, and out of each side leaned a white-suited albino, heads tilted at her in bizarre symmetry.

"Miss...Aleph," said the one on the driver's side. He paused a fraction of a second before pronouncing her name, as if having some trouble with it. But the other henchman picked it up immediately.

"How are you, miss?"

It was not what Aleph expected from the pair, who had always stood guard mute and motionless as statues during her two previous encounters with the Merovingian. For a moment she wondered if the smirks on their faces were due to a love of imitating their master, or if they had simply been programmed that way.

"Will you please put those things away?" asked the one the driver's side conversationally. Their own weapons remained safely unseen.

"Someone could get hurt, you know," explained the one on the passenger's side.

"What is this all about now?" she asked, keeping her guns aimed steady.

Each of the twins raised an eyebrow, mimicking her own expression, but on opposite sides of their faces.

"We would like to extended an invitation to you," said the first henchman. "An invitation from our employer--"

"The Merovingian," the other added helpfully.

Aleph glared at the peculiar duo for a few seconds. Carefully, she lowered the guns, pointing them downward, but without putting them away.

"What kind of invitation?" she asked, not troubling to disguise the suspicion in her voice.

The two albinos shrugged out of their respective windows.

"You will have to find that out from our employer," replied the first one reasonably.

"Sorry, I'm waiting for someone."

"That agent?" The touch of scorn in the henchman's tone was remarkably similar to that of a real human, almost as good as Smith's.

"You must be kidding us," added the other twin. The matched leers on both pale faces deepened, though neither of them laughed. "What's so great about a date with an agent?"

"It's a business meeting." Aleph decided not to rise to the bait. "Thought you guys knew that."

"Oh, certainly. A business meeting." The one on the driver's side snorted. "Let's call it that, shall we? Yet the question remains--"

"Why do business with an agent?"

"Everybody knows agents are completely useless when you need anything from them," continued the first twin.

"Plus, he's busy and won't be showing up."

"Curious, is it not?" This asked only half to Aleph, half to his brother. "You would think that lot would at least be punctual, given what wet blankets they are."

"How do you know he's busy?" snapped Aleph.

Another pair of simultaneous shrugs.

"We have our sources."

"Rather, our employer has his sources."

"He sure does tell you two a lot," she grumbled.

"He trusts us." The one on the driver's side seat beamed beatifically.

"Oh, yes, he does. Doesn't he?" echoed the other.

"Come on."

"It'll be fun." The henchman winked. More precisely, it looked like he winked behind his shades, by the movement of his face. Aleph sighed inwardly. A computer program had just talked of things being 'fun' to her. Despite herself, she was truly starting to admire the Merovingian as a programmer. After a moment of calculation, she slipped her guns back to their holsters. The albino on the passenger's side leapt lightly outside and pulled open the back door. She let him hold it for her as she got into the huge vehicle.

The drive did not turn out to be a long one. For the most part it consisted of a series of complicated turns through dilapidated roads and garbage-strewn alleys, no doubt designed to disorient her. They parked in front of a weather-beaten ramshackle of a house on an empty street, the SUV's snowy paint and gleaming chrome contrasting incongruously with the overgrown front yard. The house's windows were boarded up, except for a few that were broken, and graffiti covered the clapboard walls. One of the albinos again held the car door as she got out. Standing on the sidewalk, Aleph raised her eyebrows.

"A rather unusual meeting place for your boss, isn't it?"

"Please don't judge too soon, miss," replied one of the two pleasantly. Now that they were out of the car she could no longer tell which was which.

"That's what you humans say, right? Not judging a book by its--face?" added the other philosophically.

"Cover," corrected the twin who had spoken first. He inclined his head at Aleph, half courteous, half mocking. Nevertheless, she noticed they flanked her as they went up the torn path through the front yard, efficiently cutting off her route of escape. At the door, the one on her left dug a key out of his pocket.

"Watch this." The way he said it unquestionably reminded her of the Merovingian.

The door swung open. Aleph drew in a quick breath.

The immaculate whiteness of the walls hit her like a punch to the eyes. As if of their own will, her feet stepped forward across the threshold, though she did remember--barely--to keep her face impassive. Following her inside, the two henchmen pulled the door shut behind them. From the other side it appeared plain, the wood painted dark green and unmarked.

They stood in a corridor awash with bright fluorescent light, stretching to the vanishing point in both direction. The floor beneath their feet gleamed like ice. The walls were featureless except for two infinite rows of doors, one on each side, all of them exactly the same, uniform sequences of green rectangles that went on and on, one after another, forever. Taking another step forward, she saw what looked like a side corridor a little distance down, splitting off to the left, then another one branching to the opposite direction. The ceiling was covered with nondescript rectangular boards, the kind usually seen in office buildings, here and there interspersed with the cold glow of fluorescent panels. With a start, Aleph found that already she could no longer distinguish the door through which they had entered.

"Ah, my dear young lady!"

For an instant she thought the Merovingian had manipulated the code so that he materialized as if out of nowhere, but then she realized that he must have arrived noiselessly out of one of the doors behind her. He had the same unctuous smile plastered on his face. Coming before her, he made a small, faintly ironic bow.

"Is this what you've brought me to see?" asked Aleph with a wave of one hand, hoping to sound nonchalant.

"Ah!" The program's eyes sparkled as if he was genuinely delighted by her presence. "So, what do you think, mademoiselle?"

Aleph made a noncommittal sound.

"It's...unusual," she admitted. "Don't tell me you made this, too."

"Rather impressive, isn't it?" The Merovingian grinned, but she noticed he did not answer her in the affirmative. A hundred questions flashed through her mind, but she pushed them back. Beckoning her to follow, the program led the way down the corridor, the pair of henchmen behind them once more as silent as ghosts. Soon, they took a turn into one of the side hallways, which was completely indistinguishable from the previous one. Another turn. The place was a maze. The hollow sound of their footfalls echoed in the emptiness. Amazingly enough, though it seemed they walked for quite a while, the Merovingian did not say a word.

"Where do these go?" Aleph heard someone ask. Only a second later did she realize it was her own voice.

"Anywhere you wish," answered the Merovingian without turning his head, the words soft yet vibrant with some subtle edge. "Anywhere in the world. Please--allow me to demonstrate."

Something jingled in his hand. As the little group came to a halt, Aleph saw that he held a glittering ring of keys, and was already reaching toward the nearest door, though she had no idea how he knew it was the one to choose. But there was no time to reflect on the problem. With a dramatic gesture, the Merovingian flung the door wide open.

For the second time, Aleph found herself struggling to conceal her amazement.

The world was green like a single endless emerald, more vivid than anything she had ever seen. A forest of pines and firs stretched away into the horizon, untouched by the footprints of machines and men, translucent with golden sunlight that filtered down amid the foliage. Patches of late snow gleamed on the ground amid dappled fields of violets. The chorus of a thousand birds made the air shimmer.

"The body of the world is verdant," echoed the Merovingian's voice next to her ear. "A lie, you say, composed for those who refuse to open their eyes. Yet the poet says: it lives--it is radiant."

"What is this?" asked Aleph after a few seconds. Only then did she notice that she had followed him automatically across the portal, and they were now standing on the soft forest floor. Glancing back, she saw the weather-beaten form of a tiny cabin, apparently long-abandoned, half hidden by the undergrowth, hardly to be discerned amid the lichen and tender new fern, except for the strange white fluorescent light streaming from the doorway.

"Oh, somewhere in North America," answered the program, squinting appraisingly at the trees. "British Columbia, I should say. A touch rustic for my own tastes, but what is it they say? There are a myriad universes in a blade of grass, yet nothing under heaven but the dominion of the Programmer, no?"

Aleph looked up. Overhead, the branches wove an intricate pattern of light and shadows; the young leaves danced upon the breeze.

"There is no grass," she said. "There are no trees. They all died a long time ago, and the world is cold and dark."

"Ah, yes, the war." The way he pronounced the word made her turn to him, and something in her shivered at the sudden glitter of his eyes. "Did they ever teach you how it happened, down in Zion?"

"Do you know how it happened, Mister Merovingian?"

The other gave an expressive shrug.

"To unlock the doors that divide one world from another, sometimes it is necessary to return to the beginning of things," he said with a smile, as if satisfied at having gained a point over her. "But let us not talk of such unpleasant things, dear lady. Listen to the birds."

Aleph said nothing.

"No living birds are left on earth, so they say, only tricks of code intended to deceive the minds of the ones who lie dreaming their lives away," whispered the Merovingian. "But here are no sleeping humans to hear them, and they sing just the same. Come."

He led the way back into the corridor, and closed the door behind them. Aleph turned her head from side to side, staring at the two dizzying rows of doors, spaced with mathematical precision, ever-diminishing in size like optical illusions. Shortcuts in the programming of the Matrix, she thought. Of course. Now it seemed surprising that no one in Zion had ever expected such a thing. Next to her the two albinos grinned, one on each side of her, the expressions on their faces mirror images, but now with their master present they kept to themselves.

"All distances turn to nothing, when you have glimpsed the deep connections inside the fabric of reality," stated the Merovingian matter-of-factly, as if reading her mind. He strode across the hallway and lifted another key in his hand. Before Aleph could reply the second door opened, and she found herself standing upon pinnacle of a lofty skyscraper above a great outspread metropolis, glorious with innumerable lamps in the night. The wind touched her hair and face; she gazed down into the liquid glow of the city. For the space of one breath it was as if she could see the comings and goings of all the people in the streets and towers and houses, their pains and loves and heartbreaks, and all the secrets they were dreaming of, lying there in their pods. The sensation almost made her reel, but another moment later it had already passed.

"Let me guess," she said, "all this will be mine, if I but fall down and worship thee?"

"I would not dare to presume, ma chère mademoiselle," murmured the Merovingian. She could not tell whether his modesty was false. "Yes, all this will be yours, but not for mindlessness of mere worship. It will be yours for the opening of your eyes, and the uplifting of your love for the truth--"

"This is no truth," said Aleph, voice tight.

"Ah, there we return to the crux of the matter, do we not? How much truth do you think you really possess, down in your underground cave? How much do you know of the past and the present? How much do you know of what is within you, and the road that led you--you and your kind--to this place? Why, do you even know what is the city you have prized and prided and named Zion?" He paused, lowering his voice, leaning in closer--for the kill, the thought flickered across her brain. "Do you want to know?"

His face was half-hidden by shadows, and there were flames in his eyes. Aleph stood stock still, meeting his gaze, her breath suspended, brows drawn in a tense frown, then suddenly she took a long step backward. Turning on her heels, she strode without a word toward the half-open door of the white corridor, which was disguised as a narrow elevator shaft this time.

"You're still trying to get at me with pretty visions," she muttered with a short angry laugh.

"Visions? Hardly." The other neither looked nor sounded offended. "This is the world, code or no, more truthful than the tunnels beneath the dead earth, more truthful than the cat-and-mouse game the agents play with you, and which you call the war. Remember what I have told you, my dear young lady."

"I have nothing more to say to you."

"Perhaps you would like to see a bit more?" The ring of keys flashed again in his hand, and yet one more door swung wide. Through the opening she caught sight of stars wheeling above a luminous surface of water, and long green grass flowing from the threshold down to the shore. The lake was calm as a polished mirror, rimmed with dim forests. A little wooden boat dock stretched into the silver expanse, pillars and planks half rotted through with long neglect.

"You know where this is," remarked the Merovingian quietly.

Do you remember, Addie? At the cabin by the lake, we used to stare up at the sky, and you told me the names of all the constellations...Once we stole the boat in the middle of the night, and Mom was so angry, remember?

Aleph froze. The words echoed inside her ears, tearing her back with painful force across the years, and she was a kid again, lying on the sweet-scented shore next to her little sister, not a hint of the brutal realities to come. But before she could recover her presence, the Merovingian was already closing the door.

"Would you wish for the sea, mademoiselle?" He walked a few steps down the corridor. Another key clicked. Aleph caught a glint of racing clouds, and a limitless blue horizon beneath a blinding midday sun. "Or the mountains?" Vast snowy peaks above undulating lines of dusky cedars. "But if you are in the mood for a touch of warmth and companionship--"

Bodies, male and female, painted and pierced, tangled to the pulse of wild music, mingled with laughter. The Merovingian was moving swiftly now, and one door after another flew open. "And this one--"

"Enough!"

Aleph's fingernails dug into the palms of her hands as they clenched into fists. The sterile white lights overhead stung her eyes.

"I don't care about your seas or your mountains, sir," she said. Her voice was quavering, though very slightly, and she did not know if he could hear it or not. "I don't care about your insinuations, whatever it is you are trying to say. There is--there is nothing you can show me that would mean anything to me. So please, give it up, mister. I've seen enough."

For a heartbeat, the silence expanded until it filled the corridor, from floor to ceiling to vanishing point. Then, to her startlement and something akin to horror, the Merovingian smiled. Not his usual supercilious knowing snicker, but only a faint movement of his mouth and the corners of his eyes, barely perceptible. Strangely enough it looked almost humble.

"I see. Does this mean you have already decided, my dear?" he asked mildly.

Aleph did not answer. The hallway was cold, she noticed abruptly.

"You say you have seen enough," said the Merovingian. "But please, bear with me just a little longer. There is one more place you will be interested to visit, I believe."

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