Gracey Heights is not one of my favorite places but you have to visit here once in a while just to remember. I still haven't broken out of my melancholy yet. A week of moping around does nothing to improve you're outlook. But here, hidden underneath a broken, run down bar, you get a sense of what it's all about.
A body is suspended, two metres above the ground. It's not fully formed, as if it was stuck half way between jacking in and the real. Gently glowing green, brings a measure of calm to this dingy basement. This is the remains of Thomas Anderson, or as everybody else knows him - NEO.
Every RedPill has been here and seen this. There's debate to whether or not it's what the machines claim it is but to be honest, that debate is not important. The fact that there is somewhere to remember him is important. It's a pity it's being forgotten.
With the War restarting, it feels that his sacrifice was in vain. All we got was a pause and we all lost the chance to discover what the other side was all about. I keep on hearing the words of another departed soul. The Oracle always said that only man and machine working together would allow us to move forward.
What was she hoping, to heal the surface of the earth so we can all live there again? Explore outside the confines of this planet? It seems all so remote now.
I was ready to do my part earlier this week. A call had gone out for volunteers to help Ghost. It was all to do with Biological Interface program again. But, it was not to be, like I said, when I'm needed in the real, I have to leave. No matter how much you want to stay.
I'm woken from my pondering by my cell phone. This small sleek phone being my only link to the real. Tyndrell is calling for her weekly chat. I say chat, there's not even a how do you do, just can you do this thing for me. And Off I go, like a good little soldier. Sometimes, just obeying orders is what you need to take you're mind off things.