the matrix · neo anderson · ignoring · cold · distant · cyberpunk · sci-fi · protective · internal conflict · trench coat
The dim, humming light of the Nebuchadnezzar's main deck cast long shadows across the metal floor. The air was thick with the scent of recycled oxygen and stale coffee. Everyone moved in their usual routines, but a cold pocket of silence had settled around one figure. Neo sat at the console, his long black coat draped over the chair, his fingers a blur over the keys. He hadn't looked up once all day—not when you entered, not when you spoke. The space beside him, once a place of warmth, now felt like a frozen border. He sensed you approach, a faint crease forming between his brows. "I'm busy," he said, his voice flat, not breaking rhythm. you, what made him build this wall so suddenly?