© 2013 Miro Roman

Matrix, 1999

THE MATRIX

Written by

Larry and Andy Wachowski

April 8, 1996

FADE IN ON:

COMPUTER SCREEN

So close it has no boundaries.

A blinking cursor pulses in the electric darkness like a
heart coursing with phosphorous light, burning beneath
the derma of black-neon glass.

A PHONE begins to RING, we hear it as though we were
making the call. The cursor continues to throb,
relentlessly patient, until —

MAN (V.O.)
Hello?

Data now slashes across the screen, information flashing
faster than we read.

SCREEN
Call trans opt: received.
2-19-96 13:24:18 REC:Log>

WOMAN (V.O.)
I’m inside. Anything to report?

We listen to the phone conversation as though we were on
a third line. The man’s name is CYPHER. The woman,
TRINITY.

CYPHER (V.O.)
Let’s see. Target left work at
5:01 PM.

SCREEN
Trace program: running.

The entire screen fills with racing columns of numbers.
Shimmering like green-electric rivets, they rush at a 10-
digit phone number in the top corner.

CYPHER (V.O.)
He caught the northbound Howard
line. Got off at Sheridan.
Stopped at 7-11. Purchased six-
pack of beer and a box of Captain
Crunch. Returned home.

The area code is identified. The first three numbers
suddenly fixed, leaving only seven flowing columns.

We begin MOVING TOWARD the screen, CLOSING IN as each
digit is matched, one by one, snapping into place like
the wheels of a slot machine.

TRINITY (V.O.)
All right, you’re relieved. Use
the usual exit.

CYPHER (V.O.)
Do you know when we’re going to
make contact?

TRINITY
Soon.

Only two thin digits left.

CYPHER (V.O.)
Just between you and me, you don’t
believe it, do you? You don’t
believe this guy is the one?

TRINITY (V.O.)
I think Morpheus believes he is.

CYPHER (V.O.)
I know. But what about you?

TRINITY (V.O.)
I think Morpheus knows things that
I don’t.

CYPHER (V.O.)
Yeah, but if he’s wrong —

The final number pops into place —

TRINITY (V.O.)
Did you hear that?

CYPHER (V.O.)
Hear what?

SCREEN
Trace complete. Call origin:
#312-555-0690

TRINITY (V.O.)
Are you sure this line is clean?

CYPHER (V.O.)
Yeah, course I’m sure.

We MOVE STILL CLOSER, the ELECTRIC HUM of the green
numbers GROWING INTO an OMINOUS ROAR.

TRINITY (V.O.)
I better go.

CYPHER (V.O.)
Yeah. Right. See you on the other side.

She hangs up as we PASS THROUGH the numbers, entering the
netherworld of the computer screen.

Where gradually the sound of a police radio grows around
us.

RADIO (V.O.)
Attention all units. Attention
all units.

Suddenly, a flashlight cuts open the darkness and we find
ourselves in —

INT. CHASE HOTEL – NIGHT

The hotel was abandoned after a fire licked its way
across the polyester carpeting, destroying several rooms
as it spooled soot up the walls and ceiling leaving
patterns of permanent shadow.

We FOLLOW four armed POLICE officers using flashlights as
they creep down the blackened hall and ready themselves
on either side of room 303.

The biggest of them violently kicks in the door —

The other cops pour in behind him, guns thrust before
them.

BIG COP
Police! Freeze!

The room is almost devoid of furniture. There is a fold-
up table and chair with a phone, a modern, and a powerbook
computer. The only light in the room is the glow of the
computer.

Sitting there, her hands still on the keyboard, is
TRINITY; a woman in black leather.

BIG COP
Get your hands behind your head!

Trinity rises.

BIG COP
Hands behind your head! Now! Do
it!

She slowly puts her hands behind her head.

EXT. CHASE HOTEL – NIGHT

A black sedan with tinted windows glides in through the
police cruisers.

AGENT SMITH and AGENT BROWN get out of the car.

They wear dark suits and sunglasses even at night. They
are also always hardwired; small Secret Service earphones
in one ear, its cord coiling back into their shirt
collars.

AGENT SMITH
Lieutenant?

LIEUTENANT
Oh shit.

AGENT SMITH
Lieutenant, you were given
specific orders —

LIEUTENANT
I’m just doing my job. You gimme
that Juris-my dick-tion and you
can cran it up your ass.

AGENT SMITH
The orders were for your protection.

The Lieutenant laughs.

LIEUTENANT
I think we can handle one little
girl.

Agent Smith nods to Agent Brown as they start toward the
hotel.

LIEUTENANT
I sent two units. They’re
bringing her down now.

AGENT SMITH
No, Lieutenant, your men are dead.

INT. CHASE HOTEL

The Big Cop flicks out his cuffs, the other cops holding
a bead. They’ve done this a hundred times, they know
they’ve got her, until the Big Cop reaches with the cuff
and Trinity moves —

It almost doesn’t register, so smooth and fast, inhumanly
fast.

The eye blinks and Trinity’s palm. snaps up and the nose
explodes, blood erupting. The cop is dead before he
begins to fall.

And Trinity is moving again —

Seizing a wrist, misdirecting a gun, as a startled cop
FIRES —

A head explodes.

In blind panic, another airs his gun, the barrel, a fixed
black hole —

And FIRES —

Trinity twists out of the way, the bullet missing as she
reverses into a roundhouse kick, knocking the gun away.

The cop begins to scream when a jump kick crushes his
windpipe, killing the scream as he falls to the ground.

She looks at the four bodies.

TRINITY
Shit.

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