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“You play that game too much.”
██████████ rolled his eyes at the remark he’d heard over and over again for years. “I know.”
His mother sighed, and he had to hold back a sigh of relief too. That sigh was always saved for when she’d given up on a topic. The topic was mostly his habits. The habit was mostly playing The Matrix.
“Just don’t stay up too late, you’ve got work in the morning.”
“Mom, how old am I?”
“You’re 19,” she replied, impatience bleeding through her voice. Not just impatience for the moment. Impatience for him to stop playing games and move on with his life. As if video games were something you weren’t allowed to enjoy after you became an adult. His eyes rolled again.
“So when are you going to stop treating me like a child?”
“When you stop acting like one.”
“What was that about work in the morning?” he asked, hoping she understood it was rhetorical. “I have a job. I pay my rent and my bills. When we can afford it I’ll move into my own place. What more do you want from me?”
“To take your life seriously, ██████████,” that name always sent a chill through him. He had never figured out why. It was his name, after all.
“Am I not allowed hobbies?”
“At least find some new hobbies, not the same game you’ve been playing for years,” his mother chided, again. “You’ve never even-”
“Can we not have this conversation right now?” he snapped, and immediately regretted it, though spent so long debating with himself whether or not to apologise the moment to do so passed. She meant well, she did, but good intentions don’t equal good effects, he thought. What did it matter if he wanted to play The Matrix over and over again? It didn’t hurt anyone. So what if the story of Trinity and her crew, Neo, Morpheus, everyone else, meant more than the real world did? The real world contained nothing. Just a hole where the point should have been. There was something wrong with the world. He couldn’t explain it, he had never been able to. But it was there. Nobody else seemed to feel it, or at least nobody else said anything. Maybe it was normal, maybe feeling this way was completely normal. Everyone felt like there was something wrong, and he was the one out of place, too weak and pathetic and unstable to deal with it the way everyone else did. That was it, he told himself. It’s my fault.
Not for the first time he thought of what a cliche it was that he wanted to be just like a fictional character he was obsessed with. It was probably creepy, he told himself, wanting to be like Trinity. Obsessing over a strong woman because he can’t get one in real life, he mocked himself. Her story was important. It said something. About the life she wanted and took for herself. About the love that kept her going. About the world being wrong in some way, something you can never explain, but could always feel deep within you. About how learning the truth can make others hate you, want to hurt you, but it’s worth it because living your truth will always be more important than anything else. Cliche, maybe, but she really did wish she could be more like Trinity. She really wished she could find her own life and-
She? Where did that come from? That wasn’t right.
“Huh,” he said to himself, and though his mother clearly heard it, to his regret, she said nothing. She sighed, and turned to leave.
“Look, I’m…I’m sorry,” he scrambled to get the words out while she could still hear.
“Just come down when you’re done,” his mother said eventually. “We’re watching some TV. We’d like to see you.”
“Yeah,” he said to himself as she closed the door and he tried his best to prepare himself for an evening of interaction with his family. “I’d like to see me too, one day.”
----
“You play that game too much.”
“Because I haven’t heard that six billion times from everyone else in my life,” he replied.
“No, but seriously ██████████,” he felt a pang of rage at that name, but said nothing. Why did it hurt to hear it? He just didn’t like being recognised, was all. “It’s all you talk about. Whenever you’re on break you’re just playing it or looking up more useless crap about it. We can’t talk to you about anything.”
He sighed, again. He never understood much of what his coworkers were talking about, but in their defence he’d never tried to. He had never been very easy to get on with. Mostly because he just wasn’t a very nice person, he told himself. Too judgemental of what other people liked, what stories they enjoyed, how they spent their time. As if he was one to talk, he thought.
“I don’t watch a lot of TV or whatever-” he started, but his coworker cut him off.
“Neither do I, but I still find stuff to talk about,” she insisted. “Current events. People we talk to. Families, lives, other stuff we like and don’t like, just telling jokes or gossip, seriously, there is a whole world that you just don’t seem to want to engage with!”
I don’t, really, he thought to himself. The world was confusing, and he had never fit into it, nor would he ever, he’d accepted by now. It just wasn’t built for people like him. Something about it. He didn’t know what it was, and again, he’d never know. Maybe if he was different. Maybe if he was normal. Maybe if he understood more about the world and other people in it. Maybe if he was a she.
No, that’s ridiculous, he told himself. Stop thinking that. It’s silly. You’re 21, he told himself, time to stop living in silly fantasies and start living. If only.
“I just don’t get any of that stuff,” he mumbled, trying to pawn off any excuse. “I don’t really talk to my family or have any friends. Nothing really happens to me and I don’t keep up with news or politics or whatever, it all just blurs together.”
“I don’t believe that’s it,” his coworker insisted, and though he appreciated the attempt, sometimes he wished she’d just go away. Ignore him like everyone else did. It was a selfish thing to think, he knew, she wanted to help and be friendly, but he just didn’t understand why she would bother with someone like him. “I’ve heard you talk about The Matrix, you’re clearly passionate. You just need to find something real to be passionate about. You can’t just live your life in the dark.”
“I don’t know what I’d do outside of that.”
“Is that what you want? Really? To just work a boring job day in, day out, never talk to anyone or make any connections, do the same thing every day so you can go home and not talk to anyone and play the same game again and again?”
“I mean, I play other games,” he insisted, although even saying it he knew it was weak.
“Then why don’t we hear you talk about those?” she asked. “I play games all the time, and I’d love to talk about them with you, I love finding theories and talking about themes and deep stuff. Why don’t we ever talk about that?”
“I guess I just don’t find other games as memorable,” he said. “It’s my comfort game, you know?”
“Even though you’ve never reached-”
“Yeah, is that a problem?” he snapped, and immediately knew he’d gone too far. “Sorry, that was…sorry. I just…Trinity’s the best character, you know? I just want to keep playing her bits.”
“Look, ██████████, you’re a good guy, okay? I know you don’t think you are but you are,” his coworker finished as she checked her watch and got up, her break over. “Just…if you want to talk about something else, even just another game you’ve found, talk to me, okay? I want to talk to you more.”
He waited until she’d left before burying his face in his hands and taking a deep breath through his closed fingers.
“I wish I knew how to talk to you. Or anyone.”
----
“You play that game too much.”
“Do I pay you to insult me like everyone else in my life?”
“Quite the opposite,” the therapist said, leaning forward so his blue rimmed glasses reflected the light straight into his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it was true. But you tell me that a lot of people say that?”
“Everyone,” he said. “All the time. It’s true, I suppose. I know it’s true.”
“██████████-”
“Will you-” he started to erupt, but forced the feeling down. Not helpful. It was his name. Stop getting so angry about a name. “Sorry. Go on.”
“Have I said something wrong?” the therapist asked.
“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just…what were you going to say?”
“It’s clear that this game makes you comfortable,” the therapist said. “And that’s okay, we all need things that make us comfortable. What’s the point in refusing to enjoy yourself?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed.
“But it sounds as though you’re not enjoying yourself, are you?” the therapist asked.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, clearly you’re enjoying the game,” the therapist amended. “But you’ve said it’s having a negative effect on your relationships with others?”
“I…have you played the game?” he asked.
“Once or twice,” the therapist admitted. “Not really my thing, but I played it so I could better understand some people I knew who felt similar to you. They weren’t clients though, so don’t worry, I’m not breaking confidentiality rules, and I won’t say anything about you to anyone else.”
“I just…the ideas it brings up,” he explained. “About the world being wrong. About something being different that you can’t explain, but can feel. About Trinity feeling that way, just like Neo does, that something about the way they see the world is wrong. I’ve always felt that way. And I know it’s ridiculous, there’s nothing wrong with the world, we’re not living in a simulation or any of that, I know that.”
“So…” the therapist gestured for him to continue.
“So why do I feel that way, still?” he asked. “I first played it when I was, what 13? And yet here we are, ten years later, and I still can’t help but feel like I should have learned something from it. But I know the world isn’t wrong. So it must be me. Something wrong with me. But I don’t know what it is and if I don’t know what it is, I can’t fix it, but whatever it is, I can’t…connect. I feel so disconnected from everyone around me. I can’t make real friends, I can’t make relationships, I can never…I’m different from everyone and I don’t know why.”
“Is it possible that there isn’t anything wrong?”
“How?” he demanded. “I’ve felt this way for ten years, how could there be nothing wrong?”
“It’s possible you’re looking for something wrong, maybe inspired by The Matrix, and the fact that you can’t find anything is what’s causing these feelings,” the therapist explained. “I mean, not to imply anything, but you’re a healthy young man.”
He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. The therapist appeared to ignore it.
“You’ve got a stable job, you have a stable home, you’re self-sufficient and you’re independent,” the therapist continued. “Maybe what’s wrong is that there is nothing wrong, and you’re looking too hard to be different from everyone else?”
“So it’s a superiority complex?” he tried to hold back another laugh. It would be just like him to have that problem. Too damn special for his own good. “I can’t accept that I’m not better than all my peers, I have to be better or there’s something wrong? Fuck, I’m a selfish, awful person.”
“That’s not true at all, ██████████,” the therapist said, and he had to resist getting out of his chair to punch his therapist for reasons he still couldn’t explain. “It’s not about feeling superior. It’s absolutely normal to not want to be like everyone else, we all need something to make us unique. But - and keep in mind that I’m not saying you should stop playing the game, it’s clear you enjoy it and it brings you comfort, and that’s good - but maybe it’s worth looking for what makes you you…outside The Matrix. The real world isn’t going anywhere. We all have a place in it.”
“I…thanks,” he didn’t want to ignore what the therapist had said, knew he should listen, but he’d been down that road before. He knew where it went. Maybe it was time she found a new road.
He thought that, and refused to correct himself.
“That’s what I’m here for,” the therapist smiled. “Do you need a refill?”
“No, no, I’ve got plenty left over,” he lied.
----
“You play that game too much.”
“Really? Really. Did you call me here just to insult me too?”
“That wasn’t a judgement or a statement. It was an offer.”
He- no. She. She looked around at her surroundings. Dark. Grungy. Run down. Hidden from view. Exactly the kind of place she’d imagined meeting.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Bugs,” the leather clad figure before her responded, eyes hidden by sunglasses despite the darkness. “As in bunny.”
“Okay…”
“Everyone has told you that you play the game too much, that’s what you said?” Bugs asked.
“Yeah,” she replied. “It’s probably true.”
“Yes, but not in the way you think,” Bugs answered.
“How so?”
“The game has something to say to you, and you heard it, clearly, or you wouldn’t be here,” Bugs didn’t move, didn’t remove her sunglasses, but she could still feel Bugs’ eyes staring into her own, as if her gaze was pushing its way past the facade she’d lived under for 25 years and seeing her, truly seeing her, the first person besides herself to ever do so. It should have felt invasive, but somehow she didn’t feel that. She felt comfortable. Like she enjoyed someone seeing her true self finally.
“What is it saying?”
“That the world as you know it is a lie,” Bugs responded.
“So the world really is a simulation?” she joked.
“No. But also, yes,” Bugs said, flat out. Somehow, despite the fact that this should have shaken her to her core to know that her entire world around her was false, and always had been, she didn't somehow, she wasn’t surprised.
She blinked. “So the world is false and The Matrix is real.”
“The Matrix is real, yes,” Bugs explained. “According to the history we have from the real world, the events of that game really happened, and the new overseers of the Matrix, whoever they are, turned those events into a game to throw people off from the truth. After all, if something is a fiction that everyone knows about, it can’t be real.”
“But it is,” she interrupted.
“But it is,” Bugs agreed. “You know what happened in the end, there, after Neo and Trinity-”
“I, uh, I don’t know,” she hurriedly explained. “I…I never finished the game. The first time I got to the point where Trinity…died, I turned it off, and every time I got close to that point later, I…I couldn’t. I’ve never seen the ending. I’ve never seen what happened after Trinity…”
Bugs nodded, and even though she still couldn’t see her eyes, hidden as they were behind sunglasses, she could sense there was no judgement, somehow. “I can show you the world after Neo and Trinity saved it, and I can show you how you fit into it, if you want.”
“The world after she…they…saved it?” she asked. “The real one? Not this…illusion?”
“This world is part of the game they made, and the game is part of the world they pulled over your eyes. They’ve told you your whole life you’ve played the game too much. Maybe it’s time to listen.”
“What was it?” she asked.
“What?”
“You said that when you told me I play the game too much, it was an offer,” she repeated. “What was the offer?”
Bugs smiled. She held out a blue pill in her right hand.
“You can go back to the game and never see how it ends.”
“Or?”
Bugs held out a red pill in her left hand.
“You can stop playing.”
She didn’t even stop to think. There really was no choice. She had already made the choice over ten years ago. There was no hesitation as she retrieved and swallowed the red pill.
“These next few hours are going to be rough,” Bugs warned. “But afterwards, there’s a whole new world for you to find your real place in.”
Bugs turned away to someone sitting in the corner with a computer, who she could swear only blinked into view when she took the pill. “Do we have a trace on him?”
“Her.”
“What?”
“It’s not him. It’s her,” she said firmly, but with no anger.
“I’m sorry,” Bugs nodded deeply, and for a second she caught a look at the eyes under the sunglasses. As she thought, no judgement, or confusion. Only pride. “I’m guessing the name they gave you is wrong as well?”
“I…yes. Yes, it is.”
“Do you have one you’d prefer to be known by? Or do you need more time?”
She deliberated, but not for long. She had already known for some time. She just hadn’t been aware until now.
“My name is Lexy.”