"Who are you?" I looked at my reflection. Needless to say, it didn't answer me. Not only was it not alive, it wasn't
even real. The bridge was fake too, so was the railing against which I was leaning. Would have been nice if the water
was real. I could jump off the bridge and sink and sink and never reach the surface again. That would be it. Maybe
everyone would think it was an accident.

      Time to stop that kind of thinking. Life wasn't shitty enough, yet. Who was I kidding? Life was better than it ever had
been, and that was what was so depressing. I had it easier than most in some ways, but for every advantage, I had
twice the responsibility. I'm not a leader, I'm a...well, for lack of a better word, soldier. I follow orders, I admire my
superiors, and I respect anyone who has ever realized the truth. Now, I had to be a leader, a commander, a hero, and
some kind of savior. Everyone believes in me, hell, I believe in me, too. But none of that makes being a leader any easier.

      The worst part? I can see my friends and superiors turning into followers, becoming nothing more than believers.
They are still themselves, but they're fading fast, and I guess that's why I came to this bridge. To remind them, remind
myself, that I am still mortal, and I don't know all the answers. It could happen here, just like that. A bicyclist could come
roaring down this sidewalk, knock into me and over I'd go because I forgot that I don't have to obey the rules of gravity;
I'd die because I'd panic and remember just how mortal I am.

      Morpheus keeps trying to pretend it can't happen. It happened once. I forgot the rules don't apply to me, and I died.
I never want to admit it, but if I were to die again, I know he'd wait an impossibly long time for me to revive. It doesn't
happen more than once. I used up my "get-out-of-death-free" pass. I can't explain how I know this, but I do. I've tried to
tell Morpheus, but I either lose my words or he doesn't listen.

      When we first met, I could barely speak. I had been looking for Morpheus for years. I read every article about his
bold actions, his narrow escapes, and his ever-lengthening list of crimes. I cross-checked every news report to look for
patterns, anything that might tell me more than some criminologist's "educated" guess. I guess I looked up to him; I
wanted to be that way. Elusive, untouchable, smarter than anyone on my trail. I didn't realize that by looking for
Morpheus I was improving my abilities. I thought I was searching, what I was doing was learning and training. My quest
to discover Morpheus' secret woke a sleeping feeling of doubt that I now can put a name to, a feeling Morpheus aptly
described as "a splinter in your mind, driving you mad". At the time, I wouldn't dare deny that: I thought I was mad.

      The truth made sense, and that was what made me feel crazy. It made more sense to have my whole life be a lie
than for that feeling to be simple psychosis. Morpheus was my mentor, and I believed what he told me. Sure, I was
skeptical at first, that whole business about being 'the One' sounded like garbage, but Morpheus was too avid for it not
to have a grain of truth. When I told the Oracle that he had almost convinced me, I was lying. He had convinced me. I
can't remember a time I was more confused than right after the Oracle told me I wasn't the One.

      Amidst that confusion, however, I thought more clearly than I ever had. Somehow, I just knew what to do. How to
save Morpheus, how to save Trinity, it just made sense; maybe that's because I wasn't thinking, who knows? I had an
outline before me, telling me the future. I was damned if I did and if I didn't. When I stopped thinking about myself is
when I became the One. Morpheus had to be safe; I wouldn't let him die, so he didn't. Trinity was in trouble, but she had
saved me, and it was unacceptable to let her die. I refused to allow the expected to happen. That's what I can do; I stop
the expected and let the amazing and impossible happen.

      And that is why I am so depressed. Morpheus looks at me differently. He gives me orders still, but I know he is still in
awe of me. Everyday, this great warrior, the man I idolized, becomes a little more the believer, the follower. I can't stand
it. I don't want to be some sort of god, and I don't want to be in charge. Most people hate to be tools, but not me. I
don't mind being a weapon, something that you use to fight but that ultimately obeys your command. I wouldn't be who
I am without Morpheus. Yet from day one, he has been ready to worship my abilities. If I do end up losing him to some
kind of religious crusade based on me, I will never forgive myself.

      But I won't end it. I can't destroy fate it would seem. I never believed in it, but the Oracle opened a Pandora's box of
questions that I can't explain without fate. I sat for hours, thinking about what she said about her predictions. She
asked me to consider whether or not I thought what she said would come true whether or not she said it. At the time, I
had other thoughts on my mind, but I think about it constantly now. I've had to revise my ideas on fate. I believe there is
such a thing as fate. Some things are meant to happen. How they happen is where fate lets free will take over. I had a
choice once, a choice fate put before me. I could have let Morpheus die; I would have felt guilty, but I could have done it.
I chose the path of better karma, I guess.

      Thinking about fate always reminds me of Trinity. She says she had the same problem sorting out her own ideas on
that subject. On bad days, I think she just loves me because she was told she would. As soon as I think that, I kick
myself. It cheapens what she feels, what I feel for her. I love Trinity. I wasn't told that I would, I just do. She didn't have
to love me until I proved that I was the One, according to fate. But she did love me, before. I wasn't anything special, yet
for some reason, she loved me. God, I love her. Every time I get depressed, like now, I think of her, and I'm cheered
again. I'm feeling better this minute, in fact.

      Trinity once asked me what it was like to die. I told her I don't know. I don't remember being dead. I remember being
shot; I remember her talking to me, kissing me. I can remember the taste of her lips on mine, the sound of her voice
telling me I had to get up. Every time I try and remember I come back to a question I've asked myself ever since
Morpheus told me the Oracle's prophecy.

      "Who are you?" Morpheus said that the man who freed the first resistors died, and the Oracle had prophesized his
return. What did that mean? Was I someone else? Am I that man? I never thought about reincarnation until that
moment. Even after I manifested my abilities, I still thought I was myself. I tried to tell myself that I only have the same
powers, that the only thing I have in common with that guy is my ability to defy the matrix reality. I just don't know. Did
Neo die and get replaced? Is that why I think I can only die once?

      Too many questions. Questions are depressing, and depression always brings me to this bridge. I have a choice
here. Once more, I have the option. I can jump, I can end it, and maybe I'll learn the answers in the afterlife, if it exists.
Then I think about reincarnation, and I think about coming back. Damn it! I can't win. Maybe I don't have the choice
anywhere.

      "Penny for your thoughts, stranger?" Trinity. At a time like this, she was my angel. She wasn't dressed any
differently, black leather and shades, as always. A jogger gave her a funny look as he passed. To me, she was more
beautiful than ever. No one usually bothered me when I came here. She knew something was different. The questions
had gotten more worrisome. The second she spoke, though, the questions disappeared. I didn't care if it was some
grand design or all a fluke. All I knew was Trinity and I were too good, too real to matter.

      "I was thinking about something...very forgettable," I smiled. I had to hug her. She let me. I know why I don't jump.
Morpheus may look up to me, may see me as some savior, but I know the truth. Trinity keeps my feet on the ground. I
hate thinking of love as a weakness, but love is exactly what makes me flustered. It makes me strong, too, and without
Trinity, I'd have jumped a long time ago. Every time she kisses me, every time she tells me she loves me, I wonder why I
get to be so lucky, and she knows it. That's why she's here now. I can't find a trace of that depression that had me
poised on a ledge between sanity and madness.

      "Are you going to come back any time soon?" She didn't have to ask. I look into her eyes and see that she worries
too. I still can't believe she loves me, and I find it nearly impossible to believe that she feels lucky to be loved by me. A
kiss. A kiss to remind me exactly how much of a lucky son-of-a-bitch I am.

      "Are you kidding? I never miss dinner." She laughs, so do I. Tension never lasts when we're together. I joke around,
making her smile. Once she smiles, I'm on another plane of existence. I hug her tighter, and I don't let her stop kissing
me.

      "Get a room!" Another jogger yells. "Jealous!" I answer. Trinity chuckles. It really is something to see someone who
looks as tough as Trinity laugh. She looks even more gorgeous. I kiss her with my eyes open to make sure she doesn't
disappear. The jogger was right, though. This was great, but I'd rather it was real.

      "So, what about that room?" I whisper in her ear. We both know the answer. In minutes, we'll exit and a few
minutes later, we'll ignore our problems in the privacy of one of our rooms.

      Unless, of course, there's an emergency. There had better not be.

The End