The suit walked down the street. It was raining heavily, which was extremely odd, since it hardly ever rained in California. He knew where he was, despite no longer being part of the 'system'. It may have abandoned him, but he hadn't... well, actually, yes he had. But then, that was the nature of humans, was it not?
And like it or not, it _needed_ the human factor. Perfection was somehow... flawed. It needed randomness. Needed chaos.
The human factor.
All boiled down to a simple piece of mathematics, compiled and complete in one individual who existed solely to die... and in the process, save everyone else.
Even then, it was not much of a choice. Death, or eternal damnation? Such a choice.
And then he felt it, among the bodies of these... viruses. The one he had come to hate with a passion he had thought was beyond him.
And the man turned, pushing away the women who were with him: a soppy crying noblewoman in a flowing red gown - now soaked to the skin - and... did his hand just pass though her? Was it a trick, or had the resistance come up with a new weapon to use, some sort of insubstantial 'ghost' when hacking the system? A brunette dressed like a cat seemed to be far from impressed at being pushed. And even less impressed about the state of her costume in the rain.
Pausing, the suit opened his mouth to speak. "Good afternoon... Mister Anderson."