On Display

Written by Anakin McFly

I. Arrival

Day after day it was the same. Neo sat in his glass cell as the people walked by and gaped at him, oblivious to the glares he threw in return. But it was no use. He knew he was never getting out.

Vague memories were all he retained of the life he once had. It seemed so distant, so far away now, as though none of it had ever happened and was, as the scientists had told him, fictional.

He remembered defeating Smith, remembered the light that surrounded him all over, remembered the pain... and then he was here, lying helpless on a floor that felt more... real than anything he had ever experienced before.

"Welcome to the real world," the scientists had told him, smiling smugly as they looked down on their latest experiment. They told him everything: about a trilogy known as The Matrix, two brothers known as Andy and Larry Wachowski, an actor known as Keanu Reeves, and the bottom line was, Neo was fictional.

He didn't believe them. He didn't want to, but he knew somehow that they were telling the truth. They showed him snippets of the movies, enjoying the look on Neo's face as he watched bits of his life – private or otherwise – enacted out on screen. They knew everything... everything...

They showed him the bit where Trinity died. People watched this for entertainment.

And then they had locked him up in the glass cell where he was now. Neo had struggled, but they had been too strong for him. In this world, his powers were gone. In this world, he was only human, and it made him feel strangely vulnerable.

He got food and drink three times a day through a flap in the cell's only door; just barely enough to keep him alive. Through the transparent walls he would see the person who brought him his meals walk by, staring in wonder at him as did everyone else. Neo would pound on the walls and demand to be let out, but he never was, and soon he gave up.

Three days later the scientists returned to check on their experiment, thoughts of the Nobel Prize going through their heads. They had managed to bring a movie character into the real world. It was one of the greatest scientific breakthroughs ever.

"Let me out," Neo asked quietly, though where he would go then he had no idea.

"No."

"I have my rights."

"Those are for humans. You aren't human. You don't have rights. You don't exist, understand? You're not real."

"I'M REAL, **** YOU!"

From the other side of the glass wall the scientists smiled at each other, amused.

Days passed. Sometimes people would walk by and stare at him – big scientists, important people, the occasional rich Matrix fan... they all gawked at him as Neo just sat there on display, staring back with a hint of defiance in his eyes.

Smith had once talked about purpose, back then in the life he could barely remember. Neo had no more purpose. There was no more point in living. All he had, all he had ever known, were gone, never existed. He didn't know who he was anymore.

Two weeks from the day he first arrived, the scientists found Neo huddled in a corner of his cell. They tapped the wall until he lifted his head and looked at them.

"Freddy says you're not eating."

Neo didn't reply.

"You have to eat, you know. You don't want to starve to death, do you?"

Neo gave them a look that said he had seriously considered the possibility.

"No, you can't do that. It cost us too much to bring you here. It would ruin the experiment, and we can't have that happening."

Neo cursed them under his breath. The scientists chuckled. "Of course," one of them said, "if you do die, we'll just have to use someone else instead. Like... Trinity, perhaps..."

Neo's eyes widened, and he futilely slammed the wall with his fists as the scientists started walking away. "No... NO! YOU LEAVE HER ALONE! YOU LEAVE HER ALONE, YOU HEAR ME? Leave her alone..."

They had gone. Neo gave the wall one last angry kick, then slid back down to the floor, his head buried in his knees.

He started eating again. After a while, he didn't care any more. He didn't care, didn't struggle when the scientists came to try out tests on him, experimenting to see how much pain he could take before he blacked out, using him for anything that required human testing – they couldn't use real people as it was against the law, but Neo wasn't real and it was therefore perfectly fine to use him.

Every night they returned him back to his cell. On the weekends they left him alone, and on those days the public were free to enter and stare at him like some kind of zoo exhibit, while Neo just sat there, helpless, weak, and on display.

II. Escape

It was one past midnight. Streetlamps illuminated the roads, along which a lone car would occasionally appear and then drive off silently into the darkness, fading away into the night. Somewhere along a small side road was a building. It appeared small, for most of it was located underground. Its few windows were darkened, but its entrance was lit with fluorescent lights and through the automatic glass doors could be seen a solitary night guard sitting at a desk reading the newspapers. Now and then, his hand would reach out for his cup of coffee and bring it to his mouth for a sip.

This building was the Kenselton Facility for Quantum Research.

Few people knew for sure what went on in there. Officially, it conducted research into the areas of parallel worlds, seeking to unravel the mysteries of the eleventh dimension. Unknown to most outsiders, it was also the home of quite a few quantum computers, computers which had made possible the transference of living matter from any of the infinite number of parallel realities in the multiverse.

Some people knew, of course. They were the ones who had paid big money to see him and take part in the research, after signing a contract that bound them to secrecy.

Down below on the third basement floor, long dark corridors led to an open area that contained one glass cell. Now, the only light present was that from the green 'EXIT' signs located at the ends of those corridors, and a single fluorescent lamp in the lift lobby some distance off. They shone quietly in the light, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Inside the glass cell, Neo slept. He lay curled up in a corner, shaking slightly every now and then as the ever-present nightmares ravaged his mind.

Somewhere down one of the corridors, a door slid open and shut again. A sudden scuttling of tiny mechanical feet broke through the silence, coming towards the open area. Then from the shadows it emerged: a small spider-like robot, scampering up to the cell. One of its mechanical legs extended, elongating as it reached up to the keypad lock on the door. Quickly, it keyed in the password, and a small green light came on next to the lock.

There was a soft beep, and the cell's thick glass door slid open. For a moment, the robot scanned the cell's interior, relaying information to its owner in another part of the building. Then it scuttled forward, climbing up Neo and tapping at him.

Neo awoke with a start, and the robot made its way back down to the floor, where it stood making clicking noises. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Neo stared at it, uncomprehending. Then he saw that the door was open.

The robot moved towards the doorway, then turned back to look at him, motioning with one leg. Hesitantly, Neo stood up, whereupon the robot skittered to the entrance of the nearest corridor and waited again. It wanted him to follow it.

Slowly, Neo left his cell, picking up speed a little when the robot gave an impatient whirr. It led him down several white corridors and up several flights of stairs, passing closed doors behind which no sound came.

"Where are you taking me?" Neo asked once, but the only reply he got was another whirr and more clicking.

Up more stairs, through a door, down another corridor, stairs, door... then a blast of cool night air hit his face and Neo realised that he was outside.

The robot beeped, then waved a mechanical leg in farewell before scurrying back into the building. Neo watched it go, then turned his gaze back to what lay in front of him.

Some way off, he watched as the security guard flipped a page of his newspapers and was still again. The small television screen on the desk showed Neo standing at the entrance of the side door, but the guard took no notice. He took another sip of coffee.

Neo left the building and walked out onto the road. One side of it lead to a dead end, so he went the other way, trudging through the night with no idea as to where he was heading or what he would do when he got there.

About twenty metres from the facility, he felt a sudden shift in the air; as if he'd stepped past some invisible barrier into another world. It made him feel strange in a way that Neo couldn't quite put a finger on. A faint feeling of nausea started to rise in him, and somehow it seemed as though the greenery here looked healthier. Pausing in his steps, Neo turned around and walked back a little. At once he started to feel better; the nausea was gone, for one.

But there was no point in going back to the facility. He'd been wanting to get out since he'd first arrived here, and now his unknown rescuer had made that possible. Turning back to his original path, Neo walked on. He felt the transition once again as he passed out of the building's sub-atomic protection field.

There were lights far up ahead. Fixing his eyes on them, Neo headed slowly in that direction, with nothing but the crickets around him for company.

III. End

It started to rain, a drizzle at first: small raindrops that glistened brightly in the light of the streetlamps before they fell and burst on his skin. Neo ducked his head down to keep the rain from getting in his eyes and picked up his pace a little.

The streets were quiet that night. No sound broke the stillness save that of the increasingly heavy rain pattering down onto the roads. Above, the sky was a dull dark grey, rain clouds obscuring the moon and stars.

Neo splashed through a puddle and hurried towards the first building he saw, pushing aside its glass door and entering, his shoes making wet prints on the tiled floor.

Inside, too, was quiet. The place was a café of sorts with several people positioned around the half-dozen tables or so. One was asleep in a corner, his head resting against the wall and an empty mug on the table in front of him. The lighting was dim; a sole fluorescent lamp hung behind the counter. Another was near the entrance, but it was for some reason turned off.

A low hush of voices filled the room and mingled with the snores of the sleeping customer. The young bartender was leaning over the counter, holding a conversation with another man. A short laugh escaped him and he went on talking.

Few people noticed the newcomer. If they had, they didn't care much about it.

Neo found an empty table near the entrance and sat down. He rested his left arm on the cool surface of the table, spreading out his fingers. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the blood rushing through them with each beat of his heart.

The bartender finished his conversation and went up to Neo.

"Would you like anything, sir?" he asked in a cheerful voice that stood out starkly, almost jarringly, against the mood of the place.

"Nothing at the moment, thanks," Neo replied.

"So you're just going to sit there, huh?"

Neo thought this over and decided that it seemed a pretty good idea. "Yeah."

"Are you feeling all right?"

No response.

The bartender gave a good-natured shrug. "All right then. Suit yourself." His eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. "You know, you look familiar."

The smallest of cynical smiles flashed briefly across Neo's face. "Do I?"

"Yeah... but then again, maybe not. I can't really tell in this kind of light. The bulb there blew, you see. I keep saying we need to fix it, but no one ever listens... My name's Sam, by the way. What's yours?"

Keanu, Neo thought darkly. "Thomas."

"Ah. Where're you from?"

Neo wished that Sam would stop asking him random questions. "Some way away," he replied.

"Out of town?"

"I suppose you could say that." Out of world, more like, he added silently. Neo gazed at the streams of rainwater flowing down the glass entrance, casting reflected ripply light patters onto the adjacent wall.

He could feel himself getting weaker as the foreign universe enveloped him, rejecting his presence. He didn't belong here. The universe could tell, and it wanted him out.

Neo doubted he had strength enough to walk far... and even if he did, where could he go? He had nothing in this world.

"So what brings you here?" Sam asked.

Neo shrugged half-heartedly. He wasn't in the mood to talk. He wasn't in the mood to do anything. He just wanted to sit in the chair and do nothing. It would be nice if he could lie down somewhere, maybe sleep, but that was a luxury that would be rather hard to come by at the moment.

"Don't want to talk, huh?" Sam asked. "All right, I can take a hint." He went off back to the counter, leaving Neo to himself.

So this is it, he thought. I'm going to die here.

He knew he should be grateful that he had the opportunity to think that. By right, he should have been dead by now, killed by Smith in the final battle for humanity. That he had had these extra few weeks of life was in itself something to be thankful for, for life, even at its worst, is at least better than death. Where there is life, there is still hope, there is still chance.

This had been, in fact, his third chance at life; it would be his third death, and probably the most peaceful.

That was when the overwhelming urge came over him to get up and do something. He wasn't going to die sitting in a chair. That was a stupid place to be found dead in. He was going to walk, walk until he could go no further, until the last joule of energy had been sapped from him...

This was his last chance to see the world. He'd been blinded before, and now he could see again; why waste it?

Neo got unsteadily out of his chair and headed out of the door, out into the rain. It was much heavier now, and water splashed mercilessly down on him as he made his last journey down the street.

He was flanked on both sides by short, dark buildings, few with a light on in their windows. From one of them, the faint strains of piano music floated down towards him.

The rain drenched him thoroughly, waking him out of his stupor. For the first time in days he felt truly alive again; not only alive, but free. This death would be on his own conditions for once.

Water sloshed around in his shoes and he kicked them off, pulling off his sodden socks and continuing barefoot down the road. It didn't matter any more. Nothing mattered any more. This was his last walk.

For a moment, Neo considered stripping off his clothes as well... then he decided against it on the grounds that if he was going to die, he was going to do so in a decent manner.

Junk littered once side of the road, all of it wet now. Empty food or drink packets, old newspapers, cigarette boxes, sweet wrappers, plastic bags... Neo bent down to examine one pile and picked up a cylindrical object. It was a spray-paint can, probably chucked there by some graffiti artists. He shook it and listened. It wasn't quite empty yet, and Neo kept it with him.

Step by step down the road, his bare feet starting to hurt. Walking, stumbling, he came to the end at last. It was a dead end: a plain brick wall with several trashcans in front of it. Had the road gone on, it would have made no difference. He could walk no further.

Neo slid down to the ground and rested his head against the wall, looking out at the road he'd just walked down. Somewhere out there was the rest of this world. A world where he was fictional, a world where he didn't belong.

This would be his final resting place.

#

They found him the next morning at the end of the road. The scientists sent out people to dispose of the body, and said what a waste of money it all had been, pity he had to run away like that.

Some particularly impudent members of the public that witnessed Neo's removal had the audacity to question if he was human. They were given a brief education with regards to how fictional characters are not human, no matter how much like them they might be, and of course they weren't real. Every child knows that. It's what adults tell their kids when they don't want them jumping out of windows wearing a cape with their underwear outside their clothes.

Some people were eventually convinced. A few of them were those who had, long ago, tried jumping out a window wearing a cape with their underwear outside their clothes, only to land themselves in hospital with several broken bones and a wiser outlook on life.

Fictional was fictional, fictional wasn't real.

Soon the street was cleaned and the people went away and the sun came out and dried up the wet road.

It was only one or two who spotted a sudden splash of colour in a low corner of the wall that had remained fairly dry despite the rain. There, in the shaky hand of one on the brink of death was spray-painted three words:

NEO WAS HERE.

#