A note from the Hime no Argh herself–


Welcome to Genesis, my first Matrix contribution. This is a test upload. It might be removed, revised, and reloaded (no pun intended) without warning. Depends on the response, I suppose. Well, let me know what you think if you feel like it. If you're reading this note, I assume you've already taken some interest in the story. Let's get the boring stuff out of the way...


Title: Genesis


Rating: PG-13. I consider this sort of borderline PG-13/R, but since we don't have a borderline rating I'll stick with PG-13. If you're under thirteen I strongly encourage you to hit the little back button. This story contains drug use, suicide contemplation, language, and blood.


Disclaimer: I don't own The Matrix or any related characters and concepts. I wish I owned Keanu Reeves, though. :/


Summary: Long before Neo and The Matrix Trilogy, two extraordinary individuals–one still imprisoned in the Matrix, the other a freedom fighter in the real world–meet and find themselves together. Told from Trinity's point of view.


And now for the fun stuff. Without further ado, I present...


***


Genesis


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## UNAUTHORIZED USER LOGON @ 11:27 PM 9.15.92


SENT MESSAGE @ 11:50 PM 9.15.92


redqueen: Is someone out there?


SENT MESSAGE @ 1:33 AM 9.16.92


redqueen: Help me.


## UNAUTHORIZED USER LOGOFF @ 4:13 AM 9.16.92

* * *


My name is...no, was Eve. Note the 'was.' I'm sure you can figure it out.


His name is, was, and always will be Morpheus. At least to me. I don't know if he had a different name in the past life, and I don't particularly care. All I know is who he is today, in this life. In a way he's like my father, yet at the same time he isn't. Because even though he came before, we discovered life at the same time. We found ourselves together.


Fuck it, I'm too tired for this. I keep thinking there's something else I should be doing. I could take a guard shift, at least. But for months I've been compelled to put down these memories, and today I'm responding to that call. I don't know what's going to come out of this. Nothing at all, probably. Like I said, there are better things I could be doing with my time.


I just want to talk about it, that's all. Whether you should read this or not is really up to you.


By the way, you can call me Trinity.

* * *


The first thing I saw when I woke were the words I'd written on my computer screen. I read them and was filled with such a feeling of self-loathing that at that moment, I wanted to cut my own throat.


"Is someone out there? Help me." I repeated the words aloud again and again, echoing a hateful chorus in my head. "Help me," I mocked myself. "Help this stupid bitch, this worthless piece of shit. Help her by putting a goddamn bullet through her head."


I'm not sure how long I went on like this. The sudden screeching of my alarm clock abruptly jolted me out of my self-torture. It was 5:30 am, and if I didn't get moving soon I was going to be late for work. I briefly considered throwing myself off the overpass on the way to my job.


Contemplations of suicide were soon forgotten as I washed my hair in the sink and pulled on a relatively clean business suit. The tendency to hurt myself had been coming and going for months now. I had a few small scars on my hands and wrists from times I'd been in reach of something sharp, but overall nothing too serious. I was still here, still living this pointless life, going through the motions each day and drug-induced, hallucinatory night.


I looked at the drugs and floppy discs that littered my desk around the computer and had a sudden urge to sweep the whole mess into the garbage. I smiled at the thought and forced myself to turn away, knowing that tonight would see me out of my mind without the heroin and LSD that caused my depression and insomnia. It was a vicious cycle, and there was no way of breaking free.


I went to work.


"Eve, will you come here? I'd like you to take a look at this program. We've got a glitch and it's giving everyone in the department trouble."


"Sure, Mr. Tepper. Let me take a look."


I slid into the seat behind the desk of Pete Tepper, the manager of my department. Tapping perfunctorily at the keyboard, I made quick work of the glitch that the entire brain-dead department had been unable to figure out all morning. Tepper and I both knew that the only reason I was still stuck with him was because I bailed his ass out of every problem that came along.


"Thank you so much, Eve," Tepper whispered in my ear. I jumped slightly–I hadn't noticed him standing behind me. His hands slid over my shoulders and I heard him inhale the scent of my hair. "You are a godsend."


Did I mention the sexual harassment? No wonder Tepper was reluctant to let me move up the ladder.


"Are you okay, Eve? You seem tense." Tepper's fat hands with their hairy knuckles massaged my shoulders. My eyes fell upon the sharp, knife-shaped letter opener on his desk.


In an instant I had the letter opener in one hand and Tepper's wrist in the other. I plunged the blade into the underside of his wrist, through the soft tissue between the bones, slicing veins and releasing a rush of scarlet–the sight of the blood elated me, empowered me, as I whirled around and stabbed the opener into his throat–


"Eve?" Tepper squeezed my shoulders. I looked up into his perversely smiling face. His hand shifted, brushing dangerously close to my breast.


"I'm going to take my break, Mr. Tepper," I said firmly, standing and wriggling from his grasp. I gave the letter opener one last, yearning glance as I left his office.


The day went on in the same vein as it started. Later Tepper tried to convince me to let him take me to dinner, but I told him I had a second job to get to and left. Not exactly a lie, though the kind of work I did as day wore into twilight's black oblivion was generally considered less-than-legal.


I got home, ascended the steps to my apartment, went inside and straight to the computer. Daffodil, my calico, meowed at me from her perch on top of the tower. I shooed her away from the equipment and slid into my seat, making room in the pile of discs and drugs for a keyboard.


By day, she is a mild-mannered programmer working for a respectable software company. By night, she is Super Hacker, fighting government and corporate evils.


"Hello, Trinity," I whispered to myself, my face lit by the monitor's emerald glow.

* * *


To be continued.