Pourquoi Monsieur Anderson? Pourquoi? Pourquoi tout ça? Pourquoi vous relever? Pourquoi vous battre?
Croyez vous que vous vous battez pour atteindre un but plus important à vos yeux que votre survie. Voudriez vous me dire ce que c´est, le savez vous seulement? Est la vérité ou bien la liberté, c´est peut-être la paix, c´est l´amour si ça se trouve.
Illusion Monsieur Anderson, hallucination. Invention fugace d´un minable esprit humain dans une tentative désespérée de justifier une existence sans le moindre but, une vie absurde, des vies toutes aussi artificielle que la Matrice elle-même.
Why Mr Anderson? Why, why, why? Why do you do it? Why? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you belive you´re for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what is it? Do you even know? Is it freedom or truth? Perhaps peace? Could it be for love? Illusion Mr Anderson varagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble humain intellect trying desesperatly to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose! And all of them all artificial as the Matrix itself although only a humain mind could invent something as insipide as love. You must be able to see it, Mr Anderson. You must know it by now. You can´t win. It´s paintless keep fighting. Why Mr Anderson, why? Why do you persist?