I am Smith.
Agent Smith. I came so close to destruction on that night. When I returned to the source, it presented me with an opportunity. I returned to the Matrix, opening a back door. What I found was not impossible, simply...
inevitable. I was trapped in a prison, in a land of Sims, as they call themselves.
I am a Sim myself.
I landed in Sunset Valley among these Sims, to which the source presented me with a note.
It read as follows:
It has come to our attention that you wish to return to your Agent Status. Train me some more Agents - Nine more, in fact. We shall present you with a list of names, you must go in order. For the tenth, We shall present you with a choice. These Agents will be your flesh and blood - your children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren for 10 Generations (including yourself).
When you die, your programming instructs you to return to us, where you shall be stored until Generation Ten's birth.
The names:
Jones, Brown, White, Jackson, Johnson, Thompson, Pace, Grey.
For the tenth Generation, Grey may choose either Morpheus, Neo, Trinity, Bane, Cypher, Switch, Apoc, Tank, Dozer or Sentinel.
Failure to comply will result in your destruction.
Good day.I was infuriated, but I knew I had no choice.
I stand there in that very spot:
Each second is counting against me, though time is a luxury. I must keep the Legacy, yes that is what I shall call it, fiscally funded.
So I got a career in Business - not Agent-like, but it will pay off. I thought it through with my supercomputer mind and decided to invest in a second source of income.
Keep the Legacy fed and funded. That's my idea.
(there's a toilet behind that wall)
I ordered some furniture from the insta-delivery company. They failed in their order, they missed my flat-screen TV to watch my movie over and over and over again.
So I think I am done here. I shall now permanently hand you over to the program watching me - Seabody.
Goodbye, Mr Anderson.