Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thomas’s eyes were glued to the newspaper, his burger going cold nearby. The headline was vague and the front-page excerpt revealed little else. 

IRS DATABASE ATTACKED

The IRS filing center in Kansas City, Missouri was attacked by an unknown person or persons with the alias “Trinity” on Tuesday, July 4. The attacker or attackers were able to penetrate the computer system, though it is unclear what they were searching for. Sources say the database was…

Impressive. And confusing, Thomas thought. A hack of a government database, and one aggressive enough to make the front page. But why go for the IRS? Was this Trinity trying to prove a point about paying taxes?

Still, how cool. Thomas wished he had the guts to do something like that. But he was busy filling out college applications and avoiding his temperamental older brother. Thomas didn’t even have a computer at home. Maybe his brother could help him find and fix one up. Then again, that would require talking to him and asking for help, both of which were unappealing.

Thomas took a bite of the forgotten burger and wrinkled his nose. Yech. A slimy mistake.

He chewed slowly, thinking the article over. Trinity, whoever he was, was out there living a more interesting life than Thomas. Somehow, he knew it wasn’t a collective. It was definitely a person. Someone really smart. They had not only cracked the system, but left enough of a calling card to be named. They were trying to get someone’s attention.

Thomas turned the page, but was disappointed to learn that the rest of the article was filler. He wiped his fingers on the paper and tossed it into the trash on his way out.

Months later, on a deep corner of the Internet, Thomas wrote: Does anyone know who Trinity is?

Chapter Text

Alone again in the darkness, Trinity knew she had to stop watching the potential like this, that she was fixating. Most of the crew would never say anything to her outright, but she could see the suspicion in their eyes.

For a few more hours, though, she could pretend everything wasn’t on the brink of being ruined.

Trinity sat there and monitored Thomas Anderson as he headed up the dirty, narrow stairwell to his apartment. She imagined the tension leaving his shoulders, another day spent at his dull city job finally over, a little surety in his step as he climbed toward another evening on his computer as Neo, his hacker alias. Trinity could relate. She remembered looking forward to those sleepless nights, searching for answers in beige plastic.

Sweater pulled down past her wrists, Trinity tapped the keys softly, and the green code switched. Neo’s apartment was as dingy as the building it was in. What was it about this ordinary man that had her transfixed? 

Trinity wanted to reach out to him, but it was still too soon. They couldn’t spook him before everything was in place. This was a mission made of glass, the risks mounting by the minute—and they hadn’t even gone in yet.

When Morpheus had first announced their latest assignment, everyone on the Neb (Trinity included) was more than doubtful. The redpill was old. Old enough that extraction would be nearly impossible, even for the most skilled crew in the fleet. But Morpheus was determined.

As Neo entered his bedroom, Trinity stared at the screen and found herself hoping he wouldn’t die when they got him out. She realized she was thinking of it as a when. Not an if. How did that happen?

Trinity was lucky she could hide her mounting obsession behind her captain’s belief.

Chapter Text

Trinity had been called away, and suggested Neo check out the Zion Archives. Crappy consolation prize in place of hanging with Trinity, but Neo figured there was more to learn about the cause he’d just joined.

Bypassing the sections on the First Machine War, Neo reached the Resistance stacks and selected a heavy textbook titled Modern Resistance Systems and Tactics.

He skimmed the contents. Chapter 9: Officer Ranks and Units. That sounded interesting.

Wrong. His mind started wandering immediately. Then two sentences caught his eye:

Within the Zion resistance operation, the First Mate of a ship is the Captain’s right hand. He is expected to manage the crew, and may be called upon for special missions or tasks...

The antiquated pronoun use made Neo snort, then sneeze. Damn dusty book.

Trinity’s friends had hinted at her military accomplishments. But whenever Neo inquired further, Trinity would shut the other person down with a look.

Now was his chance. Neo reshelved the book and spotted a row of computers. Bingo.

Combat records were protected, and it was risky to look something like that up in public. But he hadn’t seen another soul all day, and doubted the rocky cavernous space had proper surveillance.

Neo booted up the monitor, ignoring the public access key taped to the table. Instead, he entered the credentials Trinity had shared with him along with a wink that’d nearly brought him to his knees.

He silently celebrated as the Council’s intranet loaded. It was unclear whose profile Trinity had spoofed, but he knew it wouldn’t leave a trace. All of Zion was at his fingertips.

Navigating to the roster of Resistance operatives, Neo only felt a trace of guilt as he hovered the cursor over the file marked <NEBUCHADNEZZAR>, then <TRINITY>.

His neck went red as he took in Trinity’s record.

Chapter Text

Tiff couldn’t stop thinking about the man at the coffee shop. Something about Thomas seemed so familiar—more than familiar. Tiff didn’t believe in reincarnation or anything, but she couldn’t shake the feeling, like they’d known each other in another life. How had she never noticed him at Simulatte before?

Tiff was sort of paying attention while Thomas' friend had introduced him as a famous game designer, before her whole body went into shock. Over a handshake. But the part of her brain that could simultaneously drive, call Callie’s teacher to argue about a grade, and yell at the kids to stop murdering each other in the backseat had processed the information and retained it. Thomas Anderson. Game designer. Video games? It had to be.

She didn’t get the chance to look him up until late that night, with Chad out with his friends and the kids in bed. Tiff opened her laptop and went to Google. Paul Thomas Anderson appeared first, but that was a director. The cofounder of Myspace was next. Then she found what she was looking for:

Thomas Anderson (born March 11, 1962) is an American video game designer. In 1986, he designed and wrote The Matrix (1999), a game that laid the foundations for the bestselling trilogy…

Tiff scrolled, noting with interest that Thomas had never married or had children. She wondered what his life was like without a household full of people stealing every second of his day.

And how exciting it must be to have such a cool job! He didn’t seem like the type to like attention, though. No, Thomas seemed… quiet. Nice. There was a depth there that Tiff was desperate to explore.

How odd. She’d only just met the man, after all. Tiff shut down her computer and shoved it under a couch cushion.

Chapter Text

Their conversation over, Lexy left Neo alone, and he sunk back onto his cot. He had to get Trinity out. There was no other option.

In the morning, they’d execute Sati’s plan. The mission swirled in Neo’s head, the bypass and the Analyst and Trinity and—it was all too much. He needed to see her.

Neo slipped out of his room and padded down the hall, making his way to the core of the Mnemosyne. It could be dangerous to look her up at such a critical time, but he didn’t care. That was becoming a habit.

He approached the monitors, taking in the endlessly shifting river of green code. Mimicking the Operator’s movements from earlier, Neo entered the geolocation for the garage in San Francisco.

Empty.

She wasn’t at Simulatte, either. A quick search through Bugs’ files got him the address for her townhouse.

When Neo and the crew had watched Trinity riding on the bridge, there had been flashes of the real her amid the Semblance. If she had started to remember the truth, that would explain why Neo couldn’t see anyone but Trinity now.

She was watching the news on television, and any Peeping Tom guilt Neo felt was quickly replaced by anger at how they’d explained his disappearance.

…video game designer Thomas Anderson has been found dead in an apparent suicide … 

Anger because he’d been able to get out, but Trinity was still there. Still being lied to.

…he had publicly struggled with drinking and drug use for decades…

He couldn’t read her emotions through the code. But she was frozen in place, and he wondered about her reaction. Neo’s own stomach was a churn of fear and hope.

Neo left the Core, knowing he’d better get some rest. It would all be over tomorrow, one way or another.

Chapter Text

Niobe read the IO newsletter every morning at 7:30 a.m., despite the fact that she always knew of its contents before it was sent out to the citizens. The routine went: Hot chaga with Freya; check on the windowsill plants; newsletter. 

At 7:35 a.m., the General was squinting at an item in the email that’d decidedly not been in the draft she’d seen the night before.

She enlarged the text slightly, and there it was: An unauthorized memo from the two most consistent pains in her ass.

Neo and Trinity were married in a private ceremony at sunrise this morning…

Niobe shook her head. To her knowledge, no one had processed a marriage license this week. Maybe she’d delay it, just to mess with them.

…The couple eloped with two witnesses, including Bugs, Captain of the Mnemosyne.

Make that three pains in her ass. The esteemed Captain Bugs had probably written and placed the announcement. Niobe enjoyed the thought that this had probably embarrassed the couple.

Just then, Niobe’s tablet pinged with a voicenote. Neo’s deep timbre sounded through the device:

General Niobe - I apologize for the early-morning intrusion. And for Bugs’ last-minute addition to your newsletter. I know what it means to you, and I promise we didn’t ask her to do that.

Niobe rolled her eyes. They hadn’t exactly stopped the Captain, either.

We would have loved to have you and the others there last night, but, uh, Trin didn’t want to wait. We hope you’ll join us at the party though?

Niobe glanced back at her screen. A gathering would apparently be held in the gardens this Saturday, with all friends and neighbors invited.

She couldn't wait until they asked her for a permit. They were going to regret fucking with her newsletter, that’s for sure.