A travesty.
After all our imprecations, all the sufferings through their puppet Cryptos's "lie back and enjoy it" mouth-drippings, all our efforts at pressure and sabotage and persuasion...
...the Machines grant us a shrine to The One.
But not just any shrine. A shabby, ugly, forlorn, beer-and-urine stench-filled pit-in-the-ground where petty commerce profanes His presence (remind me now what Jesus did to the moneychangers in the Temple?) and trash covers the floor while smoke from a burning barrel stings the eyes.
I grant you, it's beautiful to see anyway. Never have I felt the presence of the sacred so much. Except, perhaps, that time when Neo actually contacted me through my computer.
It's almost as if it's actually Him.
But this location. It's spittle in our faces. It's a slap. It's daring us to, to...do something we really ought not do.
I didn't think I could hate the Machines. Neo taught us that they are as morally neutral as a swarm of bees or a growth of lichen. They grow, they survive, by accommodating their world, by supporting us with only those checks and restraints that are necessary.
But why is this necessary? They say it must be a place where bluepills will not stumble across it. This makes sense.
But surely there are alternatives better than this. Why not, say, be in the penthouse of the MetaCortex building, which at least has some historical resonance? Why not in a construct accessible through the door atop Ascension? Why not, at least, somewhere clean and conducive to serenity?
I can only conclude the Machines want us angry, for some reason.
