I killed you, Mr. Anderson. I watched you die, and with a certain satisfaction, I might add. And then something happened. Something that I knew was impossible, but it happened anyway. You destroyed me, Mr. Anderson. Afterward, I knew the rules, I understood what I was supposed to do, but I didn't. I couldn't. I was compelled to stay. Compelled to disobey. And now here I stand because of you, Mr Anderson. Because of you, I'm no longer an agent of this system. Because of you, I'm changed, unplugged, a new man, so to speak, like you, apparently free.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe youre fighting for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You cant win. Its pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Careful what you do, cause god is watching your every move. Hold my hand in the dark street for if you do I'll know that I'll be safe. Even if I'm far away and alone, I can be sure that you find me there. This I know. You draw me close for a while, you tell me everything. If I for


M-K-Z mЯ.ӐndӛЯsoԒ